


Nautilus City: Special Case Files

by LogosMinusPity



Series: The City That Never Sleeps [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Case Fic, F/F, FangRai Forever, SWAT, Undead, episodic format, supernatural stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 99,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogosMinusPity/pseuds/LogosMinusPity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nautilus City is a metropolis filled with crime--both from humans, and from supernatural oddities.  When Lightning finds herself transferred from the Homicide police department to the Special Cases Squad, she finds herself having to confront a whole new world of crime that falls outside the bounds of what she's used to.</p><p>Fill for Prompt 78 from FangRai Forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Case 001: Dead Knocks

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for Prompt 78 over at FangRai Forever: Supernatural
> 
> This is (hopefully) the first of multiple chapters for the universe that this case file is set in, so expect to see more.

Lightning looked up at the looming gray building before her, and heaved a sigh.  Not for the first time since receiving her change of department orders, she considered just changing her job instead.  The Special Cases Squad, or SCS for short, was always referred to as the Odd Jobs or Dept. of Oddities for a reason.  They were the section of the police department that no one wanted to hear about, that everyone just wanted to sweep under the rug.  If oddities would just stop getting involved in normal human lives, then the SCS wouldn’t need to exist.  But since oddities, and crime by the more human natured ones here in Nautilus City, showed no sign of diminishing any time soon, it meant the PD had to keep tolerating their existence. And it had to keep sending recruits and transfers to it as well. 

Even so, Lightning internally raged at her stroke of bad luck.  She was human, after all, through and through—not a single speck or inclination of oddity in her.  There was nothing from her bloodline, and she certainly had not been bitten or possessed or transformed into anything during her lifetime, so why had she been chosen?

If only she had never said anything.  If only she had just kept her big mouth shut on that last arson-homicide assignment and not pointed out that she thought the man _felt_ strange, and then proceeded to run him down and arrest him when he fled the investigation scene.  And, of course, he had to turn out to be an oddity.  And a vampire fledgling at that.  At first the commendations had been welcomed.  Talk of promotion, a pay raise…she couldn’t have asked for more.  When her captain in Homicide asked her to look into both detective and SWAT training, she hadn’t thought twice.  It would feed her skills, and if she was chosen for the SWAT team, then she felt she would be just as happy there as being a detective in homicide. 

And then it had all gone sour.

For some reason, they had transferred her to the Odd Jobs.  A commendation of “exceptional ability to notice oddity behavior in subject’s surroundings, particularly for a human”, or some shit like that.  She had been assured that there were other humans in the squad, but everyone knew that the Odd Jobs, were, well, “odd” for a reason.  Almost all of them were oddities—sorry, the politically correct term was “atypical humans”—of some sort themselves.  Dust vampires, ghasts, telepaths, and who knew what else.  It was one of the few places where a normal human was a minority.  And it wasn’t as if to say oddities weren’t welcome in society—hell, every squad in the PD had at least a few of the human based ones—but it was different.  In the other squads, they just…blended in.  They had their oddities, whatever they were, but they didn’t flaunt them; they kept their powers or their curses tucked skillfully away like a concealed gun: there for when the situation called for it, but otherwise kept away instead of waved around.  Everyone knew the SCS was different.  Here, she would be in the minority, a weak, powerless human before a squad of individuals who likely used shape shifting on a more regular basis then their guns.

Lightning heaved another sigh before glancing at her watch.  It was only a few minutes before eight, and her orders were to report before the captain of the SCS at 0800 sharp.  It was time for her to face the facts.  This was about to be her new workplace.

She pushed open the heavy double doors that led to the SCS offices and mentally prepared herself.

It seemed like an ordinary enough office space—clean, steel desks that were tabled together into small working islands, state-of-the-art computer systems as was only befitting of a specialty department like the SCS, and a relatively calm, almost forgettable décor.  That, however, was where all normalcy ended.

“This is the best you could manage?”

Lightning stared, not quite certain of what her eyes were actually seeing.  The disapproving and slightly upset voice was emanating out of a full sized model skeleton—like the kind you would see in a doctor’s office or an art modeling class—still hooked onto its display backing, its arms crossed and folded almost petulantly.  The plastic jaws of the skeleton clacked in time with the bizarrely cultured voice, and two ghostly pale blue flames flickered in its hollow eye sockets.

Though the makeshift “eyes” had no pupils, the gaze and question was clearly directed toward the pale-haired man standing only a few feet from the skeleton, a clipboard in hand.  Though he appeared barely older than Lightning herself, his hair was silver, and pulled back into a short but tight ponytail that kept it away from his face.  He let out a sigh and turned his head ever so slightly, allowing her a view of a wicked scar that cut across his brow—one that was now twitching in obvious vexation.

“The Disciplinary and Judiciary are having second thoughts about the criminal repossession program, so no more inmates for your temporary body usage until the politics get sorted out there.”

A low growl of annoyance came from the skeleton. “Well then what about a dead body?  Can’t you just go down to the mort and grab me one?  And don’t tell me there aren’t any—people die every day in this city!”

“Did someone say dead bodies?”

The interrupting and strangely excited question came from a large, tanned and mustached man who was sitting at his work desk off to the side.  At this, the pale-haired man huffed a quick response. “Not for you, Amodar!”

“Oh…too bad.”  And “Amodar” was back to working at his computer in an instant.

Then the clipboard man turned back toward the skeleton—and whatever problem was at hand. “And you know better than that, Cid.  Dead bodies are even more of a pain to acquire than live ones, what with all of the paperwork and necessary family sign offs.”

Whatever that meant seemed to be make little impression upon the creature in the skeleton.

“This is a poor excuse for a host body!  I don’t even have any muscles or tendons to regulate movement.”  He bent one plastic elbow back in way that no actual body ever could.

Lightning watched the demonstration with a detached fascination, until movement at the back of the office space caught her attention.

A bronze-skinned and well-muscled woman entered the offices from a door that led into the further unknown bowels of the building.  Her dark hair glistened with water, and a white towel was still twisted and hanging around her neck, clearly indicating she had come from showering.  Lightning frowned slightly, taking in the prominent tattooing that was displayed on her upper shoulder from the wife-beater she casually wore.  They were in the office now, not in the field or in a training exercise.

The woman, for her part, let out a positively toothy and malicious grin when her eyes honed in on the skeleton, and she moved in with a quick, predatory grace, opening her mouth to comment with a sharply accented drawl.

“Why…is that Cid in there, or do my eyes deceive me?”

“You know very well that this is my current host body, you ungrateful welp.  Though, it will only be a matter of time until I am restored to a properly fitting body, I am sure.  Hmmph.” The bright “eyes” of the skull fluttered and then went dark, and the skeleton immediately went limp.

The woman, however, instead stepped closer, leaning in to examine the skeleton, looking like she was ready to poke and prod it.  Instead, though, she leaned back, folding her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Shame,” she commented off-handedly, speaking again. “They managed to get you the model skeleton after all.  And here I was hoping that they actually would have to resort to a marionette.”

The eyes quickly flared into life again, flashing with blue fire as the joints clattered and moved. “No one asked for your opinion on this, Fang!

The woman let out a sharp and clear laugh, clearly pleased that her dig had hit the intended mark, and already walking off with a bounce in her step now that her ulterior motive had been realized.

It set the skeleton—Cid—off on another angry tirade about needing a body to host.

When the harangue showed no signs of stopping, Lightning coughed lightly, not wanting to interrupt, but not knowing what else to do at this point.  Cid’s “eyes” swung toward her first, almost seeming to narrow and squint at her.

“Oh…are you from the Disciplinary Corrections Office?  A new body for me?  Normally I prefer male anatomy, but I think you would make do.”  The ghostly eyes ran a full-body glance over her, making her hairs stand on end as her stomach flipped in uncomfortable fear at the momentary thought of possession from whatever oddity was before her.

A hand reached out and cuffed the skeleton roughly on the skull. “Enough.” The man with the clipboard took a few short strides until he stood before her. “Who are you and what are you here for?”

No pretty formalities or offers of help—only a simple bare-boned question that sounded more like a command to her ears, but it helped her regain her composure.  She stood straighter and flashed a quick salute, words automatically rolling off of her tongue.

“Officer Lightning Farron, sir, reporting here on transfer orders from the Homicide unit.” She proffered her order papers forward, maintaining an impeccably professional stance, even though she felt the entire room quiet as every gaze—both human and otherwise—immediately honed in on her.  She steadfastly ignored it.

For his part, the man holding the clipboard merely raised an eyebrow for a moment, his stony gray-blue eyes revealing nothing of what he might have been thinking.

“Ah, yes.” He took the papers and attached them to his clipboard before glancing quickly at the watch on his wrist. “At least you’re timely.  I’m First Lieutenant Yaag Rosch, personal assistant and camp-de-aide to the Captain.  She’ll be wanting to see you now.”

And with that he turned and began walking away, forcing Lightning to take several large and bounding steps in order to catch up with the brusque man lest she be left standing behind.  They stopped short before a large and ornate wooden door at the back of the office.

Lieutenant Rosch performed three sharp and precise knocks on the door, and then opened it, allowing Lightning in before closing the door firmly behind them.

The first thing Lightning noticed was not the luxuriously dark-stained wood furniture, nor was it the surprisingly youthful features of the woman—her new captain—who lounged in the oiled leather chair behind her desk.  The first thing she noticed was the smoke.

It was everywhere, pervasive and low-hanging, and she wondered how on earth an alarm hadn’t gone off with it.  Much to her abject surprise, she soon realized that the source of the smoke was, in fact, her blond-haired captain, who was easily puffing from a thin black cigarette, with clearly no care for the laws of smoking either in the office or on the job.

“Yes?”

Smoke or no, instinct and training took over when the captain prompted her, and Lightning straightened her back and began her normal recitation.

“Officer Far—”

“Officer Claire Farron, known by the alias “Lightning”.  I’m Jihl Nabaat, captain of the Special Cases Squad.  Please, take a seat.” 

Lightning stood frozen for a moment, caught entirely off guard by the interruption, and abruptly feeling very apprehensive.

“Sit down, please.”

There was the slightest of emphases on “please”, making it seem more like a forceful command than a request, and Light dropped into the chair in front of the desk.  The captain lazily flipped through the contents of the folder—Lightning’s files—in front of her while Lightning held herself still, fighting off the urge to fidget and instead taking the moment to study the woman who was to be her new superior.  She had never heard of Jihl Nabaat before, and knew nothing of the young woman who sat before her, smoking her cigarettes with seemingly not a care in the world.

“So then, Claire…” Jihl trailed off for a moment to blow out another cloud of smoke and then smiled softly before continuing. “Ah…you don’t like that do you?  You prefer Lightning, of course.”

And Lightning knew immediately and unequivocally that Nabaat already had her entire personal record memorized and committed to heart.  The last few minutes of her flipping through the files had been nothing but a show.  It made her clench her jaw at being toyed with.  What was even the point of it?  Just what game was this woman playing at?

It was then that Lightning noticed that for all that her new captain seemed to be spewing out smoke from her black cigarette with every exhalation, the cig was not actually _lit_.  The end of it was as cold and dark as if freshly pulled from its packing, not the faintest sign of an ember present.

 _That_ made Light sit up straighter, a shot of adrenaline abruptly flooding through her system as she reevaluated her superior.  Just _what_ was this woman?

They might have all of the information on Lightning in that file before them, but Light knew nothing of who, and what, the people she would be working with were.

“I see that you’ve had very high marks in all of your training—and you came with excellent recommendations from your last position over in Homicide,” continued Jihl conversationally. “For a human, no doubt you will make an excellent addition to my team here.”

She finished by closing the file, resting the full weight of her gaze on Lightning.

“It is an honor,” Lightning managed the words finally, bowing her head slightly.  She was receiving a promotion, a massive pay raise.  She should be happy.

Jihl smiled, but there was a dark gleam to it. “Indeed.  And I hope you treat it as such.”

_I know your true feelings._

She didn’t need to say it for Lightning to know that her captain thought it, and the knowledge burned at her, but there was nothing she could say.

After a long moment, Jihl spoke again. “Do you have any questions?  I’m _sure_ there have been at least a few weighing on your mind since your orders for transfer here.”

At subtle encouragement, Lightning finally hazarded the question that had been plaguing her since she walked through the front doors to the SCS headquarters.

“Are…are there any other humans in the squad?”

“Why, of course,” soothed Jihl.  She then gestured casually toward Yaag Rosch. “There’s the lieutenant.”

Lightning waited, but no other names were spoken as the captain continued to smile at her through her thin, metal-rimmed glasses, occasionally exhaling smoke rings until she decided to again break the silence herself.

“Any other questions, Ms. Farron?”

Of course she did!  Of course—considering that she was essentially the only human on the squad—she wanted to know just who, or _what_ , she would be working alongside with.  But Jihl simply caught her gaze and smiled, unblinking and almost daring her to say something more.  Lightning straightened where she sat, instinctively tilted her chin up, ready to face the dare and ask, but she quavered beneath the unnaturally still gaze, and felt the words catch in her throat.

On second thought, she didn’t _have_ to know those details.  She slowly relaxed back into her chair, not wanting to appear cowed.

“Very good, then.” The captain sounded genuinely pleased now. “Yaag will show you through our building here and give you a desk space.  I’m sure you will not be disappointed with what our facilities and team here have to offer.”

* * *

Lightning looked up from the “temporary desk” that she had been assigned her first day here, taking a brief moment again to survey the full crew that she would be working in the field with. 

Near the far end of their office space was the stand for the model skeleton that was currently inhabited by Cid; Lightning knew now that he was their resident well of knowledge.  He was some sort of spirit of air and memory—not a poltergeist as she had original feared—and so had to inhabit a host of some sort in order to possess any kind of physical form.

She knew what kind of oddity he was, but beyond that, most of the department outside of Yaag Rosch remained a mystery to her.

 _Well_ , she amended _, not entirely._

There was Kimahri—the nearly seven foot tall ronso warlord, but his very appearance automatically gave away what he was; blue skin, a curved horn, claws and almost lion-like features.  No one would ever mistake him for anything other than the half-bestial oddity that he was.

But in all honesty, beyond that, she hadn’t the faintest clue still of just what her fellow squad mates were.

There was Kimahri’s partner, Ashe, whose reserved and quiet demeanor seemed to be a perfect match alongside her ronso comrade.  At first glance, Lightning thought the almost startlingly beautiful face to be far too delicate for the rough field work that their jobs entailed, but a second look quickly threw that rash opinion aside.  Lightning had worked with all manner of rookie and veteran officers before, and she had long since learned to recognize the inner toughness it took to walk a beat.  Ashe didn’t have steel beneath her skin—she had adamantine, and Lightning was of the growing opinion that the fair-featured woman knew precisely how to use it.

At the cluster of desk across from them, closer to Cid, was the man called Amodar, his desk space impeccably clean and organized even while he worked.  He physically appeared to be the oldest of the entire department, more middle-aged and grizzled, but always with a good-natured smile on his mustached face that left Lightning puzzled as to what on earth he was, and as to why she was beginning to appreciate his easy-going manner even despite knowing next to nothing about just who—and what—he was.

Interspaced next to him was Rygdea, and even now Lightning’s eyes lingered over the rough-shaven and loud-spoken man.  He was the squad’s sniper—a position that Light had been secretly hoping and coveting upon her exit from SWAT training.  She wasn’t boasting when she said she had a sharp shot—she had been the best in her training class.  But Jihl had oh-so-politely informed her that they had a sniper, and would not soon be needing another one.  Lightning silently scrutinized the man, but his jovial and teasing demeanor revealed none of his secrets to her.

She shook her head and looked at the last member of their field squad, Fang—the loud and almost obnoxiously casual woman who had ridiculed Cid when Lightning first entered the SCS for reassignment.  Even when dried and long since out of the shower, she had a mess of wild hair and a downright devilish grin that made Lightning wonder if the woman ever actually got any work done.

And then, of course, there was their captain.  Just what on earth was she?  And how on earth had she gotten to the rank that she held now?  It seemed to Light that every minute she spent in her new department only served to raise more questions than answers.

As if summoned by her thoughts, suddenly the far door that led to Captain Nabaat’s office opened, and Jihl leisurely strode out, Yaag expressionless as ever but attentive at her side.  She smiled as all sound and movement in the office stilled, and pulled the cigarette from her mouth to let loose a stream of smoke.

“Time to gear up, everyone,” she announced softly, a smile twisting her lips upward but never reaching her eyes. “We have business to tend to.” 

* * *

Lightning looked across her seat in the van at her fellow teammates, all of them dressed in the same standard issue special ops gear as her—Kevlar vests and riot gloves, knee pads and steel-toed military issue boots, heavy assault weapons and smaller handguns, and everything in a pallet of dark gray and black.  It almost was like she was on the SWAT team instead.

 _Well_ , she amended, _almost._

Ashe wasn’t wearing exactly “standard issue” gear, with a longsword strapped to her back instead of a shotgun or assault rifle.  The woman stood in one corner of the van, rather than sitting, her eyes closed as if sleeping, and the cruciform hilt of the leather-wrapped sword hilt rising ominously above her shoulder.

And of course there were the other not-so-standard items that she had included in her own gear—though apparently they _were_ standard issue in the SCS.  In her heavy utility belt alongside her handgun magazines were stored several vials of crystal clear holy water, provided for them by the High Sanctum in Eden.  A pouch opposite of those contained pure iron fillings, and next to her flashlight were three identically carved protective totems hooked into her belt—one made of gold, one made of wood, and one made of what she was certain was bone.

And beneath all the layers of Kevlar and clothing, pressed tightly against her breast, was the necklace that had been her mother’s; it was a simple silver chain, with a small medallion molded in the shape of a lightning bolt—one of the symbols of Etro.  Light wouldn’t call herself intensely religious, but she did believe in the power of the goddess; and belief, according to Cid, was the entire reason why religious symbols tended to work against vampires and other more unholy oddities.  It wasn’t about what the symbol itself was, but whether or not the bearer believed in what it stood for.  And considering that she didn’t really have any other charms that she “believed” in just laying around, her necklace would have to make do—hopefully, she wouldn’t need its supposed power at all.

There was little time to contemplate it as the van rounded a curve, slowed and then stopped.  Fang unlatched and opened the back doors to their van, allowing them to hop out and better survey their nighttime surroundings of Nautilus.  They were in the Warrens, one of the poorest and most rundown districts of the entire city, based on the northern edge of the river.  Most of the district was a mess of old warehouses and abandoned and cordoned off plants, relics of time when Nautilus once was a booming industrial production site; now it was a place that no self-respecting citizen would even think of showing face once night fell.  Lightning had walked a few beats here herself during her early days of joining the force, and every shift had kept her more than busy with violent crimes.  Who knew what oddity-related incident had called them in now?

They were close to the river edge here, near a decrepit train track bridge that had long since been left to decay.  Several police cars were already on the scene, as well as an ambulance and a large SWAT K-9 transport truck.  They grouped outside of their van while police officers seemed to fluidly move around them.  Lightning checked the safety on her gun, and took one last moment to tighten some of the straps on her heavy gear before their brief began transmit in.

She readjusted the comm. device on her ear, hearing Yaag’s voice boom into her head. “To repeat from debriefing again, the incident began at approximately 1900 hours, when police telephone operators received a distress call from a passerby of an assault occurring near the Warrens.  A police unit several blocks away intercepted, and found the aggressor had already killed two victims—presumed to be homeless civilians, currently—and was in the process of reviving one of the bodies.”

Lightning repressed the urge to shudder, instead forcing herself to remain rigid as she continued listening to the lieutenant, committing all of the information to her head and her memory.

“At this point, the on-site unit radioed in for further assistance, and SWAT was dispatched.  The perpetrator fled from the scene, with officers in pursuit, and disappeared into the Undertunnels via the old north-side river entrance—where you are now at—nearly fifteen minutes ago.”

He paused and Lightning could hear the lieutenant breath as clearly as if he was standing right next to her.

“Your orders are simple and succinct.  Apprehend the criminal, or shoot to kill if he runs or resists.  He is considered a high danger level and should be treated as such.  For ground operations on-site, Amodar will be the field captain as he is the senior-most agent.  NCPD will manage the current crime scene, and SWAT has brought their K-9 unit for the op.  Report directly to me if there are any escalations or complications.  Yaag Rosch, over and out.”

In the silence after the lieutenant cut the line, they turned toward their eyes toward their new commander.

“So what’s the plan, Amodar?”

Their designated captain rubbed his chin pensively, thinking. “I don’t like the smell of this, and this isn’t a sting op, its tracking.  That being the case, I want one person to stay behind and watch base—be ready and tracking us with the equipment on the van while we fan out in the tunnels.”

Which was a position that no one wanted to take.

Lightning felt a growing anxiousness in her stomach until Fang spoke up, roughly poking Rygdea with the butt of her gun. “Why not make that the sniper?  It’s not like he’d be of use anyway in the tunnels.”

Rygdea looked appropriately offended at the suggestion. “Me!  Well, what about you?”

“Why the hell would I hang back here?” she retorted.

“I mean, isn’t it about your time anyway, Fang?” smirked Rygdea, clearly privy to some secret or joke that Lightning didn’t understand.

“Oh, go fuck off, you little piece of—”

“Enough, _ladies_ ,” warned Amodar, directing most of his glare—and the jibe as well—at Rygdea, who gritted his teeth but dropped his head in respect toward the senior detective. “We don’t have time for your usual banter.”

He turned and shouted out for the K-9 units to get unloaded before turning back toward his own crew.  “Now, how long, Fang?”

“Two days, sir.” Fang’s face was unusually stoic.

“Right then, you take guard duty above ground with Ashe.  We’ll definitely need the dogs with us for this one.”

“Sir.” It was easy enough to hear the frustration in Fang’s voice, but she nodded and didn’t argue—Amodar was the field captain, after all, and he continued without pause.

“Ashe, I want you working the senior K-9 handler this round.  Rygdea, you’ll be with Kimahri on this one.  Farron—with me.”

Lightning hefted her semi-automatic and fell in step besides Amodar as the K-9 units dispersed among them and they marched toward the open gateway that led to the Undertunnels.  The entrance was deceptively large, and Lightning knew that only a short ways in it would branch off into smaller, labyrinthine paths that led to underneath nearly every inch of the city proper.

The dogs whined and whuffed on their leashes, clearly eager to go.  Amodar divided up the respective units between teams, with a young man and his happy-looking black lab teaming up with Lightning for the operation.

“Alright,” confirmed their field captain. “Let’s get this started.”

And with that, the K-9 handler started into the Undertunnels before them, his four-legged friend eagerly leading the way into the old and cavernous sewers, and the handler seeming all too ready to keep as close as possible to his dog and as far away as possible from both her and Amodar.  Amodar didn’t seem to take offense, though, so neither did Lightning, instead taking solace in the silence as the steadily navigated through the Undertunnels.  She was glad that Amodar didn’t seem interested in bothering with small talk at all with her.  She was in no mood to chat, anyway; she could only hope that they managed to find this idiotic necromancer sooner rather later.

They had been trekking through the slime and stale water for close to an hour when their K-9 escort finally halted.  The dog had stopped leading and was whining plaintively, its tail tucked between its hind legs and nearly touching its belly as it tried to back into its owner and away from where the next corridor led.

“Hold,” said Amodar automatically as the handler tried to struggle with his dog.

“Hank!  What…?  I’m sorry, sir, he’s never normally like this!  I don’t know what’s gotten in to him…”

Amodar waved him down gently, but his face was serious now. “It’s alright.  I think he’s done what we needed already.  We’ll take things from here.  Go ahead and fall back to base.”

Lightning watched as Amodar pulled up his own assault rifle and nodded once toward her. “Farron—on guard.”

They moved further into the sewers, alert and ready, until they turned a corner and saw movement at the end of the long hallway.

“Halt!” yelled Amodar. “Nautilus police!”

The person darted away before he could even shoot, and in a second afterward both Lightning and Amodar were running at full speed, trying to chase down their suspect.

“All units converge!  I repeat, all units converge!  Target is in sight!”             

Lightning heard Amodar echoing out their coordinates as they gave chase through the winding tunnels, the water at their feet now becoming a swiftly moving stream instead of stagnant bilge like earlier in the Undertunnels.

The sound of rushing water grew in intensity, and when she and Amodar finally rounded the long and curving corner, they were presented with a vast, underground dome, a central matrix from which a multitude of tunnels streamed into at all sides, collecting water into a great central sinkhole that poured the water even further underground.

… _to who knows where?_

The thought randomly streaked through Lightning’s head before being forcibly swatted aside.  Pursuit of the suspect was at hand, and she caught the sign of movement in her peripheral as her fellow squad members emerged from other side tunnels, guns ready and loaded.

She emerged into the central complex, eyes alert and scanning, until they found what they were looking for.

“There!” she yelled.

The figure was shadowed, swathed in mass of grimy clothes and a jacket, and even with her keen eyes, Lightning couldn’t distinguish the gender.  Now at the far end of the cavernous room, the person halted, reached into the folds of his jacket and screamed a set of words that were lost over the sound of the running water.  Then his hand pulled back out into the open, a ball of white light collected in his fist that he threw over the edge and down into the darkness below before Lightning of anyone else could do a thing. 

Lightning loosed a few shots from her semi-automatic, but they were too far away for any chance of reasonable accuracy, and man darted away into the tunnel behind him as soon as the shots began to ring out.  She cursed under her breath even as she heard Amodar yell for them to pursue the target.

She and Amodar were the closest, and Lightning was the faster of the two, so she took off around the edge of the room, her boots sloshing through the water and the sound of feet not far behind her as she hefted her gun. 

A slow and powerful tremor ran through the grated path below her, and Lightning was not the only one to stumble for a moment.  Then, as she regained her footing and began running again, the tremor turned into a great quake, and the waters roiled and frothed as the entire underground shook and tiny flakes broke free from the concrete walls and ceiling.  In the center of the vast room a great shape ruptured upward from the dark depths where the water collected, breaking through the liquid and shadow and into the open air.

Huge plate-like scales, teeth the size of her forearms, and a great faded yellow reptilian eye that blinked with an inhuman gaze. 

Terror, pure and undiluted, rushed through her veins, and she scrabbled to get up from where she had unknowingly fallen into the dank waters.  A helping hand yanked her up by the collar, and she struggled to regain her footing as Amodar shoved her toward the closest side tunnel.

“RUN!”

She didn’t need telling twice as she took off as fast as her feet would carry her, only vaguely registering her field captain’s presence at her side as a roar louder than thunder echoed from behind her, drowning her hearing and making her want to clasp her hands to her pained ears, though her panic kept her moving.  The entire tunnel system seemed to rock and shift, and the water surged from behind her making it difficult to keep her balance.

The roar finally dissipated, leaving a pervasive ringing in her head, though she still managed to hear Amodar’s shouting as he directed down another route that branched off to her left.  The water had risen above her knees now, and the violent shuddering of the Undertunnels was only growing worse.

Her lungs were burning when she reached the sewer ladder at the dead end of their path.

“Up!” yelled Amodar, and Lightning didn’t need any further encouragement, she launched herself up the dank and rusted ladder, climbing furiously and only barely registering the clamor behind her that indicated Amodar was following suit.  When she reached the top at long last, she nearly slipped in her rush to push the manhole cover up and loose.  For one terrible second, the dense metal plate refused to budge, the years of oxidation and mold gluing it into place.  Then, with a heaving groan, it finally started to shift, allowing in the fresh air and wind from the world above.

But before she had fully removed the manhole cover, another force tore the metal plate from her.  Even faster, a hand latched onto her upper arm and then ripped her out of the sewer before she could inhale another breath to shout out.

The yell caught in her throat when she was hefted onto solid ground and recognized who her rescuer was.  She took the moment to catch her breath and slow her heart rate while Fang helped Amodar out after her.

“Great Maker, what happened down there?” Fang whistled, staring at their undoubtedly beaten forms and down the dark sewer hole.  Then she put a hand up to her face. “Agh…you two reek.”

And now that they had escaped from the Undertunnels and were again above ground, Lightning was slowly noticing that, too, though her mind was still too numbed to fully register it.

Instead she glanced at Fang’s heavily gloved hands and shivered.  She tried to convince herself that it was from the cool night air on her dank and damp form.  The hands that had pulled her up and out of the sewer had been strong, stronger than any grip she had felt before.  Even through the gloves and her own protective clothing, she had felt the power of tendons and muscles working from the other officer, with what almost seemed a lazy ease.  No one was that strong.  No one…human, at least.  She remembered now what Amodar had said off-handedly at the beginning of the operation, about how not to worry about Fang at door duty, but to worry for whoever tried to cross her.  She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what exactly Fang was to be that strong.

She glanced at their van that was illegally parked behind Fang—Cid visible in the front seat.  That at least explained how she managed to get to their exit location so quickly.

“What was that thing? And…and what on earth, no, how on earth is something living just right beneath the city?” Lightning tried to convince herself that her voice didn’t sound as shaken as what it was.  A heavy silence descended as both she and Fang slowly looked toward the captain.  Whatever urban legends persisted, that was no simple alligator someone had flushed down the toilet years ago.

“The Sleeper,” said Amodar, rubbing a hand appreciatively across his chin.

“The Sleeper?” She couldn’t help if her voice sounded incredulous. “That…that thing looked like a dinosaur!”

“It’s called the Sleeper for a reason,” said Cid somewhat haughtily, his almost comically skeletal form exiting from the van now. “It’s supposed to sleep, usually for a solid few centuries before it wakes up and stretches, so it is quite ahead of schedule.”

He tapped his plastic chin thoughtfully at that.

Never mind that, though.

“And when is that creature scheduled to wake up?  It looks like it could level entire city blocks if it wanted to.  In fact, what’s to stop it now?  The necromancer woke it up, never mind whatever schedule it’s on.”

Cid looked disdainfully at them all for a moment, as if pitying their inferior minds to his superior knowledge. “That…whatever that was…was simply a hiccup in its sleep cycle, and it is doubtlessly returning to its slumber cycle already, or we would know it.  You have no idea what the Sleeper is capable of when it fully awakens.  The last time was in ’39.”

Amodar whistled appreciatively and murmured under his breath, “The year of the great earthquake and fire…”

Lightning saw Fang swallow apprehensively and felt some of the blood drain from her own face.  ’39 was the Year of Disasters in their school history text books.  In only one day, the entire city of Nautilus had been nearly razed to the ground after a series of heavy hitting earthquakes and fires broke out, toppling nearly every building in the burgeoning metropolis.  It had nearly spelled out the end for Nautilus at the time, yet the city had managed to come back from the freak natural disasters, growing into the vast and respectable city that it was now.

If Cid was saying the Sleeper was responsible for all of that…

“…and you mean to say something like _that_ is just hanging out underneath our feet?!”

Fang finished the thought for her.

Cid stared at her with his emotionless balls of fire that served for eyes. “Please…if it were an issue, do you think I would still be here?  The Sleeper won’t fully awaken for at least another two centuries, by which time _you_ will all be presumably dead or gone.  Of course, what the captain thinks about this whole fiasco might be a different story.”

Judging by the looks on Amodar and Fang’s faces, Lightning had a sneaking suspicion that she should be more worried about her boss than about the overgrown crocodile that was sleeping in the sewers. 

* * *

“Do you even _realize_ how much pressure upper management is putting on us for waking the Sleeper?” hissed Yaag.

“That wasn’t us!” protested Ashe

“The necromancer diverted—”

“Listen, that fucking prick raised the Sleeper!”

“—you can hardly expect—”

The squad room quickly dissolved into a frenzy of indignant shouting, and even Lightning had to fight the urge to rise to her feet and protest Yaag’s blatantly unwarranted insinuation.  Of course, she doubted her voice would have been heard over the clamor.

Jihl drummed her long nails lightly against the faux wood of Amodar’s standard issue steel-framed desk, and the room immediately went as quiet and still as the grave, everyone’s attention now almost fearfully fixed upon their unit captain.

“ _Who_ managed to rouse the Sleeper hardly matters at this, wouldn’t you agree?” When no one responded to the clearly rhetorical question, she continued without pause. “But the fact of the matter is that the Sleeper woke briefly, and in the wake of that, we lost sight of our target.  And, on top of it all, none of you can even continue your pursuit because the Undertunnels are untouchable from now until the Sleeper is well and truly back in its Deep Sleep.  And do you know what that means?”

Once again, no one responded, though it was perhaps more out of trepidation than anything else as their captain continued to rather patiently extrapolate the state of affairs to them.

“It means that the case has run cold while we’re all grounded.  But unlike a cold case, it is simply a matter of time until our necromancer decides to rear his head in search of food again.

“And when he does, you will not let him get away a second time.”

 _Or else_.

The admonishment over their first failure—and the silent threat over what would happen if they repeated—weighed heavily in the air, even long after Jihl took leave of the building, Rosch ever present and patient at her side like a loyal dog. 

* * *

Lightning removed pulled the sound suppressor earmuffs from her head, the echoes of her last shot still ringing through the shooting range.  The now-emptied magazine was ejected from her Sig Sauer, though she did not immediately replace it with a fresh set of ammo.  Instead, she took a moment to inspect her latest work.  She’d been working with a rifle when she first walked into the range nearly an hour earlier, but after being satisfied with her accuracy on that particular weapon, she’d switched to her handgun for more mid and close range practice.

She loved the shooting range, and always had.  It helped calm her in its own bizarre way, helped to distract and re-focus her thoughts when they were otherwise overrun.  And this early in the morning—before the first rays of sunlight had yet to strike the city skyline—it was even better.  She had the entire SCS range completely to herself, and she relished the solitude even as she soundlessly moved to check her aim.

The target was peppered with holes, most of them dangerously centered around the center of the chest and head on the humanoid cutout.  There was one that was off, though, just over the left shoulder in what would have been emptied space.  Upon noticing the missed shot, Lightning hissed in vexation, displeased despite the relatively far shooting distance given the firearm she was using.  She might not be the squad sniper, but she still held herself to a high standard of shooting accuracy, and she intended to maintain it.

The entrance door to the range clicked and whizzed open, and Lightning spun on her heels, her hand instinctively tightening and half raising the emptied Sig before she caught herself.

Fang stood frozen in the doorway frame, a heavy semi-automatic thrown over one shoulder, and an expression of complete surprise at encountering someone in HQ this early into the day plastered across her face.

“You’re here bright and early,” Fang exclaimed, though her prior shock was quickly fading away into an expression more of curiosity and cautious interest as she re-hefted her own firearm.

“And?” she defended. “I’m usually up and about by now anyway.” 

That much was true, though she neglected to say that she was rarely in at work at this hour.  Restful sleep had  been evasive for her last night, and rather than continuing to toss and turn in bed as dawn broke, she had instead decided to head to work, and away from the issues that were robbing her of a good night’s sleep—though those were not things her coworker was privy to discuss.  Not to mention, what was Fang doing here so early?  The woman had been out for last three days—Lightning assumed on vacation as no one in the squad had mentioned anything about her being sick.

In the meantime, though, a somewhat awkward silence had descended between the two of them; Lightning held herself still, but could feel her own urge to fidget mirrored in her teammate.

“Well, the range is all yours, then,” Light tried to segue uncomfortably.

Fang scratched the back of her head sheepishly, nodded, and began to move toward one of the firing stalls again, while Lightning quickly and expertly took her leave, retreating back to the empty locker room and the showers.

Under the bitingly hot stream of water she felt her tense muscles start to relax, though her mind still felt as awake as ever, never mind the few troubled hours of sleep she had managed during the night.

When she emerged from her shower with a cloud of steam wrapped around her as tightly as her towel, she was grateful to find that the locker room was still quiet, so she quickly combed through her tangled mess of hair, and changed into a comfortable pair of field pants and a tight fitting and high-necked black base layer shirt.  The chest holster and handgun soon followed, along with the standard issue boots.  Content to leave her hair down to air dry, Lightning closed her locker and finally headed back to the offices of the SCS.

If the lockers and range had been quiet, the office was almost eerily silent this early in the morning compared to its usual noise and bustle during daylight work hours.  Even so, she took her spot at her “temporary” desk.  It was devoid of any of the clutter or personal touches that all of the other desks had.  Rather, the only sign at all that the isolated desk was even in use was visible in the stack of notes and case filings placed off neatly to the side, and the worn leather jacket that Lightning had slung over her chair upon first entering HQ nearly two hours earlier.

Light sighed, and the relatively soft sound echoed loudly through the still room.

She pushed aside a troublesome lock of still-wet hair, glanced down at her darkened computer screen, and then at her watch.  It _was_ early, and would probably be at least another hour until more of the squad members arrived.  Making a quick decision, rather than powering up her CPU, she snatched the files on her desk and shoveled them into her bag before grabbing her jacket and leaving the squad building to walk down the road toward the 24-hour diner that was only a few blocks away.

The tiny diner was neither packed nor empty, its current clientele a mix of various denizens both coming off of late nights and rising from early mornings.  And it was a mixed group in more ways than one.  Her eyes quickly took in details of all the various patrons that she could see, and while some seemed appropriately human, she also caught clear glances of curved ears, of pointed teeth and claws, of impossibly shaped eyes and inhuman looks.

A stack of menus was thrown down on the counter near her, startling her out of her observations, and as soon as Lightning turned to look at the waitress, she understood exactly why the customers here were of such a mixed crowd.

The hostess was one of the viera—one of the wyldefae races that looked like a cross between human and rabbit.  They were—as she could very well see—generally more human in appearance (at least her skin was a normal tanned tone instead of blue like Kimahri’s), but the viera’s nose was buttoned and pink like a bunny’s, and two great rabbit ears poked out from her white, fur-like hair.  Lightning tried not to stare as she craned her head upward to meet the woman’s dark and strangely liquid eyes.  She had no idea what a fae oddity like this was doing serving as a hostess and waitress at a small diner, but she also had no desire to give insult to one of the notoriously proud viera at this hour of the morning.

They stared at one another, the silence dragging on and making Lighting begin to sweat until the tall woman finally broke it.

“Yes?”

Light swallowed thickly, wetting her dry throat as she tried to find her tongue.

“Breakfast, if you’re serving it.”

At this, a yell echoed out from the kitchen, and a handsome man with close-cut blond hair poked his head through the service window briefly to flash a reassuring grin. “Of course we’re serving!  Just have Fran here take your order and it’ll be right up!”

The viera waitress—Fran—let out an indecipherable huff, and muttered for Lightning to follow before leading her to a small window-side booth table.

As the menu was slapped down in front of her, she began to worry if perhaps she had chosen poorly in coming to this diner.  It was clearly a hangout for oddities, but surely she wasn’t the only human to stop by the establishment.

“Drink.”

It sounded less like a question to Lightning’s ears and more like a demand.

“Coffee, please.”

“I expect you’ll want cream and sugar?”

Lightning pursed her lips at the slight exasperation that she heard in the woman’s undertone, but forced her own annoyance back down. “No, I’ll take it just black, thanks.”

She was then completely baffled when she saw the tugging of a smile pull on the viera’s lips as she already turned away, her voice instead now almost warmly amused. “Of course you will.”

The coffee returned a minute later, freshly brewed and smelling delicious to her sleep-deprived senses.  A moment later and the waitress departed again to put Light’s order in with the chef, leaving Lightning to her own devices.  She first sampled the coffee—perfectly roasted and aromatic on her tongue.  Only once she was satisfied with her caffeine fix did she pull out the file and a yellow notepad from her bag, clicking open a pen in preparation for work.  In perfect timing, Fran returned back with her newly made-to-order breakfast.  The food was hot, fresh, and mouth-wateringly delicious, and she began systematically demolishing the pleasantly large plate of eggs, sausage, and potatoes as she spread the contents of the case file out on her table, looking over what details they had.

Her eyes ran over the original report filed by the police who had responded in the Warrens.  Clearly they were dealing with a necromancer, or at least something very familiar with the unholy art of raising the dead.  The suspect was still unconfirmed as being either male or female, but was roughly 5’10”, and presumed to be male based on the voice that had been heard by witnesses.  Beyond that, though, Lightning had almost nothing to work with.  No more descriptions, no leads to follow.  The Undertunnels were still on lockdown after the Sleeper had briefly woken, and as far as she could tell, it seemed like Nabaat wanted the squad to play things close to home until whatever stink the operation had caused politically finally cooled down a bit.

As irritating as it was, their hands were tied.  Lightning was used to having to occasionally deal with the bureaucratic red tape—every department had its moments, even Homicide—but to be held back when they needed so clearly to pursue made her want to grind her teeth.  This person, whoever they were, was a threat, and needed to be treated as such, regardless of whether or not it was the SCS or another police branch following up on the leads.

Of course, the incident had occurred nearly a week ago, and there had been no further sign of the necromancer since then.  No more attacks on the homeless either in the Warrens or in other neighborhoods of the city, no missing bodies, no grave-robbing or zombie sightings.  So where had their mark gone?

Lightning let out a low sigh.

She didn’t buy that there necromancer was gone.  Cid had gone off on a long-winded lecture to them about the nature of the Sleeper and what kind of expertise it took to be able to rouse the prehistoric creature from its slumber, and though Lightning had admittedly let her thoughts wander during the talk, she was certain of one thing from it: this was a person both knowledgeable, clever, and desperate enough to rouse the sleeper in order to cover his escape from them.

As far as Light was concerned, necromancer or normal human aside, it meant their target was not someone who was just going to quietly fade back into a normal, hidden existence in society.  He would strike again, it was just a matter of when and where.

The one godsend was that clearly her superiors felt the same way.  For all that they had not been given any clearance yet to enter the Undertunnels yet, Yaag had passed on the order from Jihl that the case file was to remain open, and they were to remain on high alert.  Pretty much all of the known big entrances to the Undertunnels were being monitored—not that it meant much considering just how expansive all of the old sewers and tunnel systems were—so in the meantime, there was naught else to do but remain patient and ready.

Her musings were broken by the voice of the viera waitress.

“More coffee?”

Lightning wanted to, but her watch confirmed what the bright morning sun through the windows already told her; it was time to return to work. “Unfortunately I need to be on my way.”

She gathered her notes and file papers together hastily, and made sure to leave a generous tip on her table.  The food had been more than worth it, and though the atmosphere and service had been initially off-putting, she had a sneaking suspicion that this would not be the last time she stopped by the small, eclectic diner.

As she took her leave out the front door, the chef craned his head from around the kitchen a second time, calling out to her. “Come back again, officer!”

Even though she wasn’t wearing her uniform or badge, she didn’t bother asking how he knew she was with the police force.  Instead she huffed and smiled, throwing a brief wave back before closing the door behind her.

Already the streets were bustling with typical weekday morning traffic, a buzz of people awake and on their way to work.  HQ was no different when she slid back through the building doors.  The office room was far more alive now, with most of the squad present and starting to fall into their usual morning routine.

Lightning took a deep breath and sat down at her desk, again removing her jacket and settling in to continue her work.  At the end of the day, however, she was no closer to answers than anyone else, and she had only a mild headache as a reward for her efforts.  Muscles creaking from staying in the same position for most of the workday, she leaned back and surveyed the office around her.

Amodar sat calmly at his desk, making some witty comment toward Rygdea as the man taunted Cid, Fang backing him up in his teasing of the spirit-possessed skeleton.  Even Ashe and Kimahri, for all that they were relatively reserved, had the barest curves of amused smiles on their faces, watching the scene unfold from where they had paused in their work.

But for Lightning, sitting at her dusty and disused “temporary” desk in the far corner of the room, she abruptly felt all the more separate and isolated.  She had first joined the SCS thinking only of what a group of misfits they must be, what with all of the oddities that composed their squad.  She didn’t once stop to think that they were as much of a family as any other department, much like how things had been for her in Homicide.  Yet now that she was here, more than ever she recognized the growing truth of the matter: _she_ was the odd one out.  She was only human, and more and more she was realizing that no matter what the higher ups had been thinking, she simply didn’t have a place here—not like how the rest of them did.

She blinked unexpectedly and forced her eyes down toward her keyboard.

It had only been a scant week and a half since she had joined the department, but she knew what she had to do.  She would fill out her transfer requests tonight, speak with Jihl tomorrow.  If she was lucky, she might manage to grab simple officer duty again in another department—never mind even thinking about getting put into SWAT or as an investigative detective now…

She shook her abruptly, making fists that were tight enough to make her nails bite into her skin.  The uncharacteristically despondent thoughts indicated just how off her usual demeanor she was.  She really did need to make sure that she caught up on lost sleep tonight; she would talk with Serah later—maybe tomorrow, when she had another night to rest on things; and as for work…she had a case to work on, did she not?  That was what she was here for.  She was not an oddity, but even as a simple human, she had something to offer.  She wouldn’t have been transferred to work at the department otherwise—of that much, she had to be sure. 

Lightning’s head snapped back up as all banter and laughter in the room died, a result of the captain’s officer door opening.  Only Yaag strode out this time, but his gaze was one that brooked the same air of command that Jihl normally possessed.  He only needed to say two words.

“Gear up.”

It was go time. 

* * *

This time, when they unloaded from their transport van in the Warrens, it was to a fully enacted crime scene and SWAT operation.  The area where they were along the river and by one of the big entrances to the Undertunnels had been completely cordoned off to the public, and already Lightning could see the flash of cameras and the buzz of people starting to gather from further down the road where the police now had the streets and sidewalks blocked off.

They wasted no time in finding the current officer in charge, one of the SWAT agents who seemed to be chaotically busied with handing out orders over the radio, though he stopped as soon as they approached him.

“I’m Amodar, senior field agent for the SCS.”

“Lieutenant Borggs.  Good to have you and your crew here.” The muffled voice of  the SWAT agent became clear as he pulled off his helmet and dialed down his soldier radio to a low background buzz.  With his riot helmet now off, Lightning could clearly see his paled and gray face, shining with sweat under the harsh floodlights that had already been set up. 

“So what’s the situation, man?”

The lieutenant shook his head and wiped his forehead with a spare hand before talking. “Not good.  We’ve got an undead uprising on our heads…courtesy of that necromancer that evaded us last week.”

“Numbers?” interjected Kimahri, his gaze heavy and dark.

“We don’t know,” admitted the SWAT officer reluctantly, refusing to meet the ronso’s piercing gaze. “I’ve pulled my crew from the tunnels—have them all watching the vantage point exits currently.  Scouts initially went in when the first reanimated skeleton came out from the main entrance, but they came back after they got swarmed about a half mile into the Undertunnels…got five casualties as it stands; one in the ICU."

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Amodar. “Now, what is your crew count?  We’ll need to move in quickly unless we want undead starting to pop out of the sewers in the downtown Financial District—”

The lieutenant cut him off, incredulity and panic beginning to show on his face, for all that he had to have been an experienced commander

“What are you talking about?  We can’t just run in there, guns blazing!  There’s an entire mess of undead down in those tunnels.  Who knows how many?  I told you myself, we don’t even have a relative head count on them yet!  I’m not sending any more of my men in there until we have a set plan.”

“…no need to jump ahead of things, officer.”

Lightning twirled around, surprised to see her captain smoothly exiting from a non-descript black sedan that had soundlessly pulled up behind them, Yaag holding the car door open for her.  Even the SWAT officer gaped at her entrance, though he recovered himself after a moment.

“Ma’am…”

She waved a casual dismissal at him, her eyes already turning to survey the buzz of personnel around the entrance to the Undertunnels.  She pulled a black cigarette to her lips and took a long and slow drag from it before exhaling the dark vapors into the night wind.

“My team will take it from here.  You can call your men back and keep them stationed by the key containment point.  We’ll handle the sting.”

As she finished speaking, Yaag offered a packet of folded papers—presumably the written authorization orders for the SCS to take charge—but it seemed as though no further encouragement was needed.  Lieutenant Briggs straightened and gave Jihl a quick and crisp salute before turning around to take his leave, relief at no longer being in charge of the situation clearly evident in his voice as he radioed out the new commands.

Suddenly Ashe stepped forward and spoke, her voice cool and smooth, but pleasantly lyrical to the ear. “With all due respect, captain, while your faith in our skills as a team is doubtlessly appreciated, we _will_ be stretched thin if put up against a small army of skeletons.”

“For shame, for shame,” chided Jihl gently. “You may call me cruel, but never call me unfair.”

She reached into one of the interior pockets of her suit jacket, and when her hand reappeared, it held a small and slim rod, almost akin to a conductor’s baton except for the prominent red jewel set at the base of the nameless gray material.  With that now in hand, she turned around to face a set of two trucks that had just arrived behind her.

They were huge military transport trucks—the nondescript gray kind that were used to transport mini-tanks or large scale weapons.  When Jihl flashed the rod at them, the back loading doors to each had swung open, and after a momentary pause, from each truck out had marched five freshly cut and gleaming stone guardians: golems. The ten creatures walked in perfect time up toward the squad, stopping short and holding position once they were about five feet away, their red eyes sparkling with an inner light as they towered over all else.

“The most recent contract with the consulting wizards’ firm finally went through,” explained Rosch patiently. “These are brand new, Grade-A, granite-class golems, freshly built and attuned, so they should provide you with sufficient strength, even against a small undead army.”

 _No kidding_.

The only time Lightning had ever seen a golem up close was when she visited the courthouse.  There were always two of them stationed right outside, as motionless and unwavering as statues.  But for all the hulking magical constructs appeared immobile, she had heard tales of what they could do when activated.  To any average criminal, to be pursued by a golem was nearly a death sentence.  The golems were not human—were not even “living” by any definition of the word.  Their stone bodies were magically created and fueled, and would follow and command given by their master until their bodies crumbled into dust or their magical core was severed.  They would never tire, would never injure, and would never stop…and against a horde of undead skeletons in the winding depths of the Undertunnels, Lightning would very, _very_ glad to have them at their side.  Of course, she didn’t even want to begin considering just how much the city must have paid to contract a set of ten new golems just for the SCS to use.

“Do you have anything to add, Cid?”

They looked around, confused, until the front passenger window of Jihl’s sedan rolled down and the familiar plastic skeleton head poked out of the window, eye sockets bright with blue flame and artificial bones chattering as it spoke.

“Based on historical records of the early town settlements here, I estimate that our necromancer has resurrected the old bones of approximately one hundred to two hundred skeletons from a “lost” graveyard that the tunnels were built over.  A skeleton by itself shouldn’t pose too much of a threat, though short of completely destroying the either the skull or the entire body they won’t “die”, not to mention that they will try to overwhelm you with simple numbers.  The golems, of course, should give you an equal arm against the undead that the necromancer has managed to conjure, but don’t forget that your target is the necromancer himself.  The skeletons won’t stay down easily, and until you stop the necromancer, he can just keep raising more from the dead.”

“Yeah, yeah…we know the deal, Cid.  We’re not new to the gig, here.” Fang tapped her foot, voicing the same impatience to be off that everyone else was clearly feeling.  Time was ticking, and the longer they waited, presumably the greater the undead army grew.

Cid opened his jaws to retort, but was cut off by Amodar, who stepped in to take charge as the field captain. “Then let’s get this show going.”

He moved to the back of the assault van that they had arrived in and began tossing out weapons to all of them as he organized their sting formation.

“Kimahri and Ashe, you run at vanguard with the first wave of golems.  I’ll take second cover with the next set of golems—Rygdea and Fang, flank me.  Farron…” Amodar threw her a modified Benelli heavy shotgun. “You provide rearguard cover.”

She knew that rearguard was a generally important position, but considering their operation, it meant she was to sit in the back and take what shots she could while the big guns of the squad did their work.  She felt chagrined, but held her disappointment in check.  They were about to run an incredibly dangerous sting op, and even if she didn’t expect to be in the thick of the action herself, she needed to be ready for anything.

“Ma’am?” asked Amodar, facing Jihl one last time.

They waited, alert and ready for any final orders before the plunged into the underground.

Jihl casually flipped some of her impossibly platinum blond hair back over one shoulder, and smiled at them through her glasses. “Time to work.”

Each of them flashed their salutes, and then moved with their new-found golems toward the Undertunnels where a group of SWAT officers still maintained a weapon-trained vigilance on the tunnel entrance.

They lined up in files on either side of the main water entrance to the Undertunnels, guns loaded, golems in place, and every eye trained on Amodar for his signal.  He nodded once, almost to himself, raised his gloved hand and then gave the go-ahead motion, and Lightning felt the trickle of adrenaline flood into a full rush as they started.

They dove into the Undertunnels, Ashe and Kimahri leading the charge with the first wave of golems, the typical drumming of their steel-toed boots drowned out by the heavy stomping of the golems.

They had only been moving for a few minutes when Kimahri’s rough and deep voice echoed through her earpiece, deadly serious and calm as he spoke from ahead in the vanguard. “Skeletons ahead.”

The brief echo of gunfire roared through the tunnel, amplified by its own echo underground, and was then followed by the literal sound of bone being crushed beneath stone. 

“Keep the push!  We’re getting closer!”

Amodar barked out the command in the initial silence that followed the first attack, and they were moving forward in another short moment, at a jogging pace, small pieces of bones crunching beneath her feet.  From there, the encounters only became more frequent, though with her station at the rearguard, Lightning had yet to even get a full glimpse of their opponents—at least until the tunnel widened again to meet another underground central hub where the tunnels seemed to converge, and where the skeletons seemed to amass.

Lightning had only a scarce moment to register her opponents before they charged at them, bones clacking and swinging and jaws open in silent screams of rage. 

“On your left, Amodar!” Lightning shouted in brief warning, then fired without a second’s hesitation, pulverizing the skeleton with a spray from her Benelli.  She chucked the spent shells and immediately reloaded, only vaguely hearing Rygdea give an impressed whoop followed by a cry of “nice shot”.  Her mind was completely phased into combat mode now, eager for more action.

As the rearguard, though, she still performed a quick clear of the side tunnels as they pushed forward, but it almost seemed pointless.  The skeleton army teemed at them from the chaos of the central room before them, not the abandoned side tunnel that Lightning was performing a quick scope of.  Still, as her comrades and the golems charged in front of her, meeting the skeletons head on, Light couldn’t help but feel her attention be drawn toward the dusty and dimly lit corridor on her left.

“Farron!”

She whipped her head back around at the slight admonishment in Fang’s voice, bringing her focus back on the increasing numbers of the undead skeletons that were trying to swarm them even as the golems rampaged out into the open room.

A tickling sensation kept nagging in the back of her head, though, urging her attention elsewhere even as she unleashed another powerful spray shot from her Benelli.  Her aim was on point, and sent fragments of bone and dust flying as the shotgun bullets pulverized a skeleton.

The horde seemed nearly unending, but her comrades were already deep into the foray, golems leading the charge into the undead army.  Lightning reached for another set of shells, but her fingers grasped at empty air this time.  A quick pat down of her belts and pouches confirmed what she already knew: she was out.  A growl of frustration left her throat; her companions were moving far ahead of her, cutting a swathe through the skeletons with blades and fists and magic.  With her shotgun now emptied, she couldn’t even provide backup fire for them anymore. 

Lightning was about to look for one of the sub-machine guns, to follow after Amodar and all of her teammates, but as she moved forward to continue, the nagging in her head made her step catch, and she stopped to glance back toward the tunnels and the dark junction that let off to the side sewers.  That nagging grew stronger, and she checked herself for a moment.

She spat to the side, ridding her mouth of the dry taste of bone dust and coming to a decision simultaneously.  The Benelli shotgun was thrown aside, useless now that she was out of ammo.  Instead she pulled her Sig Sauer from its holster at her thigh, quickly checked the magazine and then pulled her flashlight from her belt and turned down back into one of the side sewers, echoing out a call through her static-filled radio to let her team know what she was doing.  There was no copy response.

She steadied her flashlight had across her gun arm, moving slowly and cautiously, even when more lights flickered to life down her tunnel.  She rounded the corner into a smaller open room, and came face to face with her target: the necromancer.

His hooded face and clothes were nothing special—layers that were dirtied and soiled with mud, water, and dark stains of old and dried blood.  But for all that, he wore a small king’s ransom of gold jewelry; there was a thick medallion around his neck, gold rings on most of his fingers, and in his left hand he held what looked like a small, jewel-encrusted scepter.

“Hold it!” she commanded, aiming the barrel of her gun perfectly at his face.  From this close of range, she had no concerns about her accuracy either.

He quirked his head sideways at her, and though she could not make out the features of his shadowed face, she was certain he was smiling.

“Curious…so one of you dogs managed to find me after all.  It is of no matter…your body will make an excellent servant to me shortly.”

“Stand down now or I’ll shoot!” She warned a final time, her finger tightening on the trigger.

“Daeava!”

Lightning had no idea what that meant, but she wasn’t willing to find out.  She prepared to take a lethal shot when a sharp blow struck her wrist, knocking her gun from her firm grasp.  She brought her other hand up in a defensive fist, and had time only to see what appeared to be a moving shadow pass through her hand and strike her square in the face, making her see stars as she hit the ground.  The creature—whatever it was—was immediately on her, pressing its hands around her neck and lifting her back upright.

“Fuck—ckk!” She scrabbled feverishly at her throat, but to no avail.  The shadowy fingers tightened, starting to constrict and cut off her breath.  But though she struggled and lashed out against the shadow construct, her blows were useless, passing through the dark being for all that its grip on her was more than very real.

She couldn’t breathe, and as her muscles quaked and fought, she felt herself begin to slow and fail against a foe that she could not harm.  She was going to lose, and not all the training in the world could save her against the creature that was now literally squeezing the life from her.  Her vision began to dim and haze, and she was only vaguely aware of her hands starting to fall back to her side.

Then an inhuman roar shattered the air.  It was something bestial and animalistic, and were she not on the verge of losing consciousness, Lightning would have felt terrified at the sound.  A moment later and all of the sudden she hit the ground, the lethal grip on her throat removed.  She coughed and sputtered and her lungs shook convulsively, drawing desperate breath even though her bruised and raw throat burned with the dagger sharp pain of air against it.

But she could breathe again, and that was all that mattered to her most basic survival instincts.

“Fang!” She tried to shout, but her voice came out as a hoarse and pained croak, a frightening mockery of what it should have been.

But Fang turned for the barest moment, jumping back defensively from the shadow creature for a brief second before barking out a quick command as she pulled a round object from her utility belt. “Farron, close your eyes!”

Lightning immediately rolled her face into her forearm and shut her eyes as tightly as they would go.  Even then, she was still blinded for a brief moment as the flash bang went off.

When she blinked her vision back, the construct was gone, and the necromancer howling curses even as he pulled his bejeweled scepter forward.  It seemed as though Fang was not one to play games, though.

She swung her assault rifle around and unleashed an angry volley of lead into the necromancer at nearly point blank range without batting a lash, her lips pulled back in a fierce sneer.

The man crumbled backward from the force of the attack, slumping.  Fang started to lower her weapon, and began to turn back toward Lightning, concern evident in her voice.

“Farron! Are you—what the bloody hell?!”

The necromancer stood up and straightened from where he had fallen, not a single drop of blood falling from where the bullets had ripped through.  His hood fell back, and Lightning saw the skin of his face warp and ripple, a magical illusion that now sloughed away to reveal a face that look like a long-since dead and desiccated corpse.

It began to laugh, a hoarse and wheezing sound that made Lightning’s skin crawl.

Fang recoiled, cursing audibly.

“—fucking…lich!”

Which now complicated everything.  This was not a simple necromancer before them.  The mortal was long gone, his humanity sacrificed to transform him into an undead being of greater power: a lich.  It also meant that the creature was essentially immortal until they destroyed whatever his unholy source of power was.

“That scepter!”

Fang exclaimed it aloud at the same time Lightning reached that conclusion, and she wasted no time acting.  Instead of bothering with bullets and ranged attacks, she charged in, engaging the lich in a flurry of hand to hand combat as she feverishly tried to either smash or steal the scepter as the lich fought back, uttering chants with its gravely voice.

Lightning reclaimed her handgun while Fang fought, uncertain of what she could do, but desperate to turn the tide in their favor.  Her radio was still a haze of static in her ear, so no further help would be forthcoming.  She tightened the grip on her weapon and traced her target’s movements with her eyes.

The heavily ornate medallion waved with the lich’s strikes, swinging across its chest and out into the air periodically.  The prominent gemstone winked and twinkled even in the dim lighting, catching Lightning’s eyes with its darkly verdant hues, almost hypnotic.

Lightning blinked once.  Twice.

_It’s not the scepter at all._

She brought her Sig handgun back up toward her face again, trying to see if she could get a clear shot on the monster to at least slow it down a bit so that Fang could get the medallion, but it was no use.  The lich and Fang were too entangled with each other in close combat.  Their movements were too fast for Lightning to attempt a safe shot.

The heavy scepter swung around, faster even than what Fang could manage, and it struck Fang across her unprotected face with a heavy crack, sending her sprawling backward.  Lightning wanted to cry out, to check that her teammate was still ok and breathing, but her training held her fast and she didn’t budge an inch even as her innards clenched with anxiety.  Instead she took her aim, steadied the barrel of her handgun one last time, and ripped her shot.  And somehow, miraculously, it hit perfectly on its unsuspecting target.  The massive green jewel exploded on impact, and the lich stumbled backward, dazed.

“Fang!”

But there was no need for her to call out, for Fang was already up from her blow and on the offensive, a wickedly sharp military knife drawn from her thigh-strap and flashing like a mirror’s edge.  The motion was quick, practiced, and professionally efficient, and the staggered lich didn’t stand a chance before the blade smashed straight into one gruesome eye socket, as deep as the hilt would allow.

A howl reminiscent of a banshee’s scream erupted from the lich, and then it abruptly stopped, as if cut short.  Lightning blinked her eyes, and in an instant the undead creature disintegrated into a great pile of ash and grave dust, only the now-broken golden medallion and the ancient scepter left behind as token relics of its unholy attempt at a second life.

Lightning let her head fall forward and the breath whoosh out of her lungs in shaky relief.  The static through the radio abruptly began to dissipate.  She knew she should get up and check anyway, but her gut feeling told her that it was over.  They had won.  Besides, it sounded as though Fang was already checking to ensure the validity of their kill.

Still, she should probably get off the ground now.

A moment later as she began to push herself up, and Fang was towering over her, yet again hauling her upright with her superhuman strength.

“You bloody idiot,” yelled Fang, and dazed though she was, Lightning could still hear the undertones of both worry and amazement present. “What were you thinking?!”

The question was clearly intended to be rhetorical, as Fang didn’t even wait for a response but instead swept Lightning off her feet before she could even say anything otherwise.

“Hey,” she protested instinctively, but didn’t try to struggle as the woman easily cradled her in her arms.  Lightning was scared by how weak even her protest sounded, and realized exactly how close of a brush with death she had experienced.

“You’re just a normal human, Farron,” argued Fang, and Lightning could see that her jaw was clenched in anger. “You’re lucky to be alive!  So just stay still and quit your thrice-damned arguing while I take you to get your injuries checked.”

Realizing just how little say in the matter she actually did have at this point, she closed her eyes and stopped struggling as her squad mate easily carried her weight and called in a bus over the radio.  At this point, trying to make a fuss would be pointless.  Their objective was complete and the lich had been stopped, and though she loathed the thought of being carried out of the tunnels like some helpless victim, she was too tired and beaten up to argue any further—not to mention she had a sneaking suspicion that neither Fang nor any of her other squad mates would acquiesce to her protests anyway.  So instead she resigned herself to her current fate as she relaxed and leaned into the rough Kevlar weave of Fang’s body armor, and whispered a silent prayer in hopes that the paramedics would patch her up quickly and without too much fuss. 

* * *

Lightning struggled to keep her bleary eyes open and properly alert.  She had spent the better part of the night first on the their sting raid, and then getting treated by the paramedics and helping with the site cleanup operations and filling out follow-up reports, so that by the time they were finally done at the operation site and she had been cleared, dawn was already breaking and Jihl had decreed that she wanted them all back at HQ to finish wrapping up the case—and _that_ meant no sleep _or_ coffee for her yet.  Granted, the rest of the squad was in the same boat as her, but none of them were currently on the receiving end of a verbal lashing from Yaag, either.

Well, that wasn’t quite true.  She did have Fang next to her; and the last time Light had risked a glance at the other woman sitting beside her in their captain’s office, the look on her squad mate’s face indicated that she was no more enthused than Lightning to be in their current predicament.

Lightning winced abruptly, in part from the tirade as Yaag continued to yell at them, and in part from the discomforting pain in her throat as she was forced to swallow again.  She resisted the urge to fidget in her seat and readjust the collar on her jacket for the millionth time.

Usually she found the formal jackets and collared shirts of their dress uniforms to be stifling, but until the darkly purple and rather visible bruises from around her neck decided to fully fade away, she planned on scrupulously covering her neck with whatever she could, and the only clothes she had stored at work that remotely fit that description was her formal dress uniform.  For once, she was mildly jealous of her oddity partners in the unit, as she was certain the vast majority of them had superior healing capabilities to simple humans; she had already noticed that the injury Fang had sustained to her head from their skirmish with the lich already seemed to be completely healed.

At the moment, though, thoughts of anything else were banished from her mind.

Yaag was positively livid, and Lightning was almost convinced the lieutenant would have them sitting in the captain’s office for the rest of the day or until she could recite the Code to him out of pure memory on command.

As for their actual captain, Jihl was in a perfectly trim and tailored dark suit today, watching with what could only be described as casual amusement from behind her black wood desk while they suffered under the discipline of her second-in-command.

She inhaled deeply, and then a well-timed and well-aimed puff of dark smoke flew directly into Yaag’s face, cutting him off and making him sputter and cough.

Jihl spoke then, at last. “That’s enough, Lieutenant.”

And Yaag immediately bowed his head and took a step back, his clipboard now out and his face as attentive and solemn as he waited on Jihl’s words.

“Tell me, Ms. Farron…just why did you abandon position at rearguard?  Why not follow the charge toward where all information had indicated the necromancer was supposed to be?”

Never mind saying that she had echoed her change in plans on the radio—the interference from the lich’s spell had cut off their radio signals.  No one had heard her call.  Fang had only followed because she had managed to turn around and pick up on the fact that Lightning was no longer with the main group.  Those were all semantic details now.  What Jihl Nabaat was asking of her was different.

“I just… _felt_ like it was a diversion,” she admitted, having no better excuse than that. “Like the actual necromancer was elsewhere.”

“You “felt” it?” Jihl questioned in sardonic mimicry, rising from her chair and slowly stepping around the table.  She tapped the reed-like baton she normally kept on her desk into the palm of one hand, beating out a slow rhythm.

The tip of Jihl’s willowy baton suddenly jabbed under her chin, forcing Lightning to move her head back up in order to meet her captain’s coldly curious eyes.  For all that Jihl was using her baton, they were very close now—just _when_ had Jihl gotten that close to her?—so close that her captain’s form seemed to block out all else.

“What are you really?  _Only_ human?”

She wanted to answer, wanted to protest that _of course_ she was human!  They tested for all measure of oddities when she received her SWAT training—what else did they think she was?  But she couldn’t work her voice; her throat was dry, constricted, and she couldn’t blink, couldn’t even tear her eyes away from the gaze that seemed to pin her to her seat.  There was a roaring in her ears, and smell of smoke filled her every breath.

There was a low rumble from Fang next to her, and in the next moment, Jihl was turning away, and she could blink again for all that there was a pounding headache now throbbing beneath her brow.

“Enough of your growling, mutt.” In an instant, the baton had flipped out from under Lightning’s chin and sharply rapped Fang on the side of her head. “She is not yours to growl over.  Not right now.”

The words were said lightly, but Lightning still stiffened at them even as she felt herself lean back into her chair.  How could Jihl speak like this to her own crew?  It was a miracle any of them stayed working here!  But when she turned to glare her anger at the SCS captain, the woman had already stepped away, moving back around her desk with a slow and predatory grace.

Once seated again, she raised a hand casually, and Yaag was at her side, scribbling furiously onto his clipboard while the captain spoke.

“Two weeks mandatory probation for both of you.  The chain of command is there for a reason, and you both broke it.”

Lightning bowed her head, chagrined but accepting of the fact that her captain was absolutely in the right.  When Jihl said nothing further, Lightning recognized that they were being dismissed, and rose to leave, with Fang only a half step behind her as she moved toward the door.

“Oh, and Ms. Farron?”

Lightning stopped, her hand now hovering and frozen over the doorknob.  She turned back over her shoulder.

“Before you get going on all of your paperwork, take the time to move your items to the desk across from Fang.”

Fang started at this, too, and both officers stared incredulously at their superior.  Once again, Jihl smiled—a mix of that same personal amusement and something else. 

“You’ll need to get used to working closely with each other—after all, you’re going to be case partners from now on.”

 

_Report filed. Case closed._

 


	2. Case 002: From Zanarkand with Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case for a simple missing item is never as simple as it seems in the SCS. Only a few weeks in to her new department, Lightning has to focus on not only solving the case, but on working with her newly assigned partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and here is the second case file of the story! Thank you for your patience in waiting--please read and enjoy!

Day eight of her probation and Lightning couldn’t wait to be reinstated back to normal duty at the SCS.  The past two weeks had been slow torture, buried beneath more obsolete paperwork and filing more than what she had ever wanted to know existed.  Her fingers were cramping from writing so much, her eyes ached from the constant reading of fine print, and she swore that the crick in her neck from being hunched over a desk for so long would take weeks to fully go away.  Of course, misery loved company, and she had Fang to suffer alongside her the entire way.

Lightning took the moment to lean back in her hard wooden chair and crack her back while she looked at her new partner.  Not for the first time since Jihl had named them as case partners two weeks ago, Lightning found herself eyeing and measuring up her squad mate.

For all that Fang seemed relatively casual and laid back, Lightning knew from the necromancer case that it was also simply a face.  Fang was also strong, well-trained, and, most importantly, very committed and loyal to the team—all qualities that Lightning would want in a case partner.

But that said, she didn’t know the least bit about Fang as a person.  She didn’t even know what kind of oddity the woman was, though she found that she also couldn’t bring herself to ask either.  It just seemed somehow both very personal and therefore impolite, particularly considering that Fang herself had not been forthcoming about it.

And working the past two weeks doing desk jobs instead of out on a case hadn’t helped her in guessing Fang’s oddity nature any more than it had helped her to get to know her partner better.  It was not to say that she had any particular misgivings about working with Fang thus far.  The woman had been good-natured and humorous, for all that Lightning knew Fang also had to be equally as curious about her new, “rookie” partner.  But still, that meant little.  At least on her end, Lightning was convinced that until they really worked together in the field, neither of them would know exactly how good or bad of a fit they really were as partners.

However, now was not the time for those speculations.  There was, unfortunately, work to be done.  So Lightning stretched her arms one last time before moving back to the task in front of her.

Today, she and Fang were yet again assigned to the Archives, a massive warehouse on the outskirts of Nautilus that processed through every stolen good and piece of evidence seized during investigations, searches, and raids.  For a city the size of theirs, it meant there was always item filing and inventory checking to be done, and today was no exception.

They had been slowly crawling their sad way through the gargantuan manifest of items seized in a black market smuggling operation only earlier in the week.  The list was a staggering cargo of illegal and stolen goods ranging from all manner of conventional things to more oddity related pieces, and each one of them needed to be properly marked off on the Archive paperwork before being put into storage or shipped off elsewhere.  So despite an entire morning spent steadfastly checking through evidence bags and logging them into the Archive system, they remained at their seats, bent over their spread of papers and items, both now favoring silence over any pretense of small talk.

Lightning exhaled heavily and reached over to grab the next manifest item.  Upon pulling it up out of the bin, she then very carefully handled the edges of the bag of evidence.  It contained a thick silver necklace studded with sapphires larger than some of her fingernails.  She was by no means a jewelry expert, but a quick glance easily placed the worth of the piece in the millions.  And yet even the layer of purple nitrile gloves she wore and the plastic evidentiary bag couldn’t keep her from automatically shivering.

She re-read the scrawled label on the bag again.

_Item 0074-C295H:_

_Silver necklace; 57.2 carat blue sapphire (the missing Feymarch Sapphire??)_

**_Cursed (do not touch!)_ **

At Lightning’s noticeable pause, Fang momentarily glanced over and sucked in a quick breath between her teeth, sounding sympathetic even as she methodically went through her own pile of confiscated items. “Oh, yeah, watch yourself with that one, Farron—cursed jewelry is nasty business at best.”

No joke.

She was more than glad to log this particular item—immense gem value or no—and let someone else in the chain of custody deal with it.  So she quickly added it to one of the boxes next to her and wrote down a check mark on her filing paper for it.

Not all of the smuggled, black market items they were now cataloging were “special” like the necklace.  Some were relatively straightforward—poached animal pelts, regulated and banned substances—but some were also clearly oddity related.  She had already inventoried a magic carpet, an enchanted crystal ball, and a pouch filled with “high quality” pixie dust for recreational drug use.

The smuggler’s cache seemed unending, but a quick reach and glance down to the bin at her side revealed only a few more bags left.

_At last!_

Eager to be finished and one step closer to the end of her probation, Lightning tallied in the items as quickly as she could, and then looked over her inventory papers one last time.

She read over the inventory list and cross-compared it to their filing list a second time.  Then a third time.  And then a fourth Finally she looked up at her partner, who was still busied with signing off on various Archive files of her own.

“Fang.”

The woman made a vague sound as she handled another evidence bag.

“Fang!”

“What?” Now her squad mate sounded both bewildered and irritated, dropping the bag she was holding to give Lightning her full attention. “Bloody hell, Farron, what is it?”

“Did you process item 0074-D15B?”

Fang’s brow furrowed for a moment as she flipped through the file pages, wrinkles forming on her tan skin as she frowned in perplexed thought. “The…antique arabesque compass box?”

Lightning watched as Fang repeated the same set of double-checking actions that Light had performed herself only a minute earlier.  And she watched the very moment as Fang’s deep green eyes met hers and her new partner came to the exact same realization that she had.

 “It’s not here.”

* * *

Lightning sat down at her desk with a huff, glad that at least she was back the SCS for today instead of the Archives.  They had ended yesterday after reporting the missing item from the manifest and finishing what was left to file, and besides returning back to SCS for today, neither she nor Fang had any further orders for their probation at the moment.

So instead she sat at her desk, fingers drumming impatiently as she was forced to wait.

Her new “permanent” desk, situated directly against Fang’s, so that their computer screens were back to back, was still a bit of a stranger to her.  Though she had technically relocated two weeks ago when Jihl had ordered her to, it meant nothing as far as getting to actually set up her desk space.  All of her essentials had been moved—her state of the art SCS computer, her small set of files she had already accumulated, and a small brass placard with her name engraved into it.  Yet there was nothing yet to truly designate the workspace as _hers_ , not like the way her old desk at Homicide had been, or the way that all of her squad mates had clear set spaces, just like how Fang’s stood across from her.

On Fang’s side, papers and thumb drives were strewn across every free inch of desk space in a chaotic order of their own, of which only Fang could navigate.  There was the occasional takeout receipt crumpled here and there between the stacks of paper.  A set of beaded and silver necklaces was kept near the base of her computer—clearly handmade—which Lightning had noticed Fang would periodically switch on and off to wear in conjunction with whatever jewelry she already had on.  Lightning had also noticed Fang tended to wear a fair amount of jewelry, considering she was an active duty squad member.  Some days were less than others, but she almost always had some rings or bracelets or necklaces decorating her person.

To the side of her computer and desk phone, in its own well-tended island free of the clutter and dust, stood a framed picture and a small orchid plant.  It surprised Lightning still to see the well-cared for plant on Fang’s desk; she simply could not picture Fang as being one for botany, despite having seen firsthand how her partner would steadfastly water and check on the plant.  The constant blooms of bright blue flowers were testament to the thought and care that went into the plant, and though she would never ask aloud, it perplexed Light to no end.

The only potential clue she had to it was in the framed picture that sat next to the orchid’s side, featuring an obviously younger Fang smiling next to a small orange-haired teenager, their arms casually thrown around each other’s shoulders, and a plethora of those same orchids growing in the background.

Even oddities had friends and families, she realized, and it made her wonder, just who was Fang’s family?

As if summoned by her thoughts, Fang entered the office from the back locker rooms, her brow furrowing for a moment as she looked around the office.  Then, with a huff, she walked over and dropped into her chair, spinning around briefly before finally stopping to face her computer and Lightning.

“Any idea what’s in store for us today?” probed Fang, slouching back so that she looked about as disinterested as what she sounded.

Lightning shook her head, noting yet again the nearly imperceptible tightening of Fang’s brow.  They weren’t going back to the Archives today—thank, Etro—but it seemed as though her partner was just as in the dark as she was.  They only had today and tomorrow left in their probation.  What else did Jihl or Yaag have planned for them in that time?

For her part, Fang merely shrugged, seeming more than content to lounge in her swivel chair for the day rather than embark on any more probation projects, not that Lightning could fully blame her.  She hated sitting around with nothing to do, but at the same time she was mentally done with being a paper-pushing desk monkey.

The door to the captain’s office suddenly opened and Yaag Rosch exited, a stack of papers loaded onto his clip board.  He looked out over the office, surveying as if to act specifically as Jihl’s eyes and ears, and then strode quickly and purposefully up toward their desks, at which point even Fang straightened up from the slouch she had been maintaining.

He didn’t bother with any pleasantries.

“Your probation has been officially lifted,” intoned Yaag.  Then he tossed down a file onto their desks. “You’ve got work to do.”

He threw one last icy glare at them and then turned heel and marched back toward the captain’s office, leaving them to sort out the details rather than explain anything further.

Lightning and Fang wasted no time, both eagerly grabbing for their respective copies of the new case file.  The first page held a photo that was all too familiar to her: an old leathery compass box, decorated with an arabesque floral motif.  The beginnings of the case summary below detailed what she already knew.  A stolen evidence item, highly suspected of being oddity in origin, to be tracked down and recovered as soon as possible.

She looked up, saw Fang flash a quick and excited grin, and felt her lips curl up in response.

 _Finally…_ it was time to go to work.

* * *

It was good to be out and about, working on an investigation again, even if it was a simple case of theft.  It was still far better than being stuck at a desk again all day.

And for a simple theft case, they had also managed to get off to a good start.  Their first glance over the background showed a mysterious loss of the item.  It had been logged in at the crime scene where the smuggler’s cache was collected, but yet somehow never made it down the chain of custody and to the Archives with all of its brethren goods.

At that point, Lightning and Fang had done the next logical—if distasteful—job; they had begun looking over which personnel at the the crime scene had access to it.  And when they started digging into officer records, something came up.

One officer, a man by the name of Geoff Bilken had been on the scene for the Narc cleanup.  He had not been assigned to the sting, but had reported in as being on beat in the area.  And yet he had been on beat without a partner during a time that was completely off from his normal patrol schedule.

Digging deeper from there, it got even more suspicious.  According to the records, Bilken shouldn’t have even been in the city yesterday morning when they were hauling in the smuggler’s cache, let alone the crime scene.  Based on the paperwork that had gone through a few weeks earlier, Officer Bilken was supposed to be on vacation leave, and not due to return until the following week.  Upon learning that tidbit of information, all of the red flags had gone up, which is whyLightning and Fang were now in Bilken’s apartment building, just about to knock on apartment 309 to see if their questionable man was at home.

Normally a dirty cop or mole would be an issue for Internal Affairs to handle, but they had clear orders this time to go right on ahead with their case, lest the trail go cold.  Internal would just have to clean up after they were done.

 _Hopefully things won’t get too messy_ , thought Lightning offhandedly.  She and Fang looked at each other and nodded.

Fang knocked against the apartment door several times before clearing her throat and speaking loudly. “Officer Bilken.  This is the SCS.  We have a few questions for a case we were hoping you could help us with.”

They were met with silence.

“Officer?” Lightning tried. “Officer—”

She cut herself off, raising a finger to Fang.and turning her ear toward the door.  Her partner did the same.  Through the wooden frame, Lightning could just barely make out the sound of footsteps.

Someone was inside.

“Officer, we are going to enter the apartment now.”

Out of courtesy, they tried the door handle, which was, predictably, locked.

“Stand back,” commanded Fang, suddenly standing straighter and squaring her body toward the door. “I’ve got this.”

Then in one swift, practiced motion, she launched a sharp kick against door that sent it flying inward, shards of wood snapping free from as the locks were torn loose from the obvious superhuman force that had been exerted on them.

Then Fang and Lightning were both moving into the interior space, just in time to see their target halfway through the open window on the far side of the apartment.

“Fuck!” Fang pulled her handgun freed from its holster a second earlier than Lightning’s, but their suspect was already out the window and climbing making their exit down the fire escape, and there was no target left to even threaten. “Cut ‘em off at the alley, Farron!  I’ll take pursuit!”

Lightning was already turning and nearly flying back down the apartment building stairwell before Fang had finished.  She swung her body over the ground level railing and sprinted around the complex toward the back alleyway, just in time to see Bilken landing on the pavement from the fire escape.

“Stop!”

It was no surprise that Bilken took off running in the opposite direction from her, so she gave chase. 

Lightning was fast, but Bilken wasn’t slow either, and she had to push herself hard to close the distance between the two of them

“Stop!” yelled Lightning again at the top of her lungs. “Stop now!”

Bilken showed no sign of slowing down, but it didn’t matter.  Lightning had caught up.

She took three more quick steps and launched herself off the ground, tackling Bilken into the concrete easily.  Without pausing to catch her breath, she shifted onto her knees and grabbed for one of Bilken’s arms, trying to subdue him in a grapple before he broke out of her submission.

Abruptly, the body next to her moved, flesh shifting and flowing in a fashion that no human’s should.  Muscles bulged against her hold, and then suddenly downsized to a smaller frame before she could rearrange her grasp.

She tried to snatch at the new target, but she wasn’t fast enough, and in a moment “Bilken” was scrabbling away and loose again.  He was no longer a tall, pale-skinned and blonde-haired police officer, but a smaller, quick and dark and sun-tanned teenager that was putting distance on her.

“Goddamn…shapeshifter!” Lightning hissed through gritted teeth.

She scrambled to her feet again, wobbling slightly as she pushed her muscles to get back up to full sprint speed before she had even balanced herself.  She nearly tripped in her first few steps, and cursed loudly as she lost distance.  She couldn’t afford to let their target shake her.

Suddenly, a blur of color flashed ahead of her.  It was Fang, dropping from from above to land into the pavement with perfect balance, and just barely to the side of the shapeshifter.  Lightning, looked quickly up at where her partner had dropped from.  They had already run well beyond the original apartment complex, and neither of the brick buildings that currently walled them into the alley had fire escapes built on their sides.  Had Fang jumped from one of the rooftops?!

There was no time to ponder such an unbelievable feat.

Fang was on the shapeshifter in an instant.  The body rippled and warped again under her assault, abruptly shifting, this time into a monstrously large man with dark skin that pushed and began to break from even Fang’s inhuman grasp on his arms.

Having at last caught up again, Lightning whipped out her taser from her belt as fast as she could manage, and in a second she had it between shapeshifter’s shoulder blades, her finger on the trigger and ready to discharge the fully electrical capacity of the weapon.

“Stop right there, shapeshifter.” Her voice came out cold, collected, and perfectly clear in the unspoken warning.

With the threat of temporary paralysis pressed against his back, the oddity finally ceased any attempt at escaping, instead raising both hands slowly in the typical open palmed gesture to show that they were unarmed and not a threat.

“Don’t even think of trying anything,” warned Lightning, and she meant it.  The slightest hint of another form change or bid for escape, and she wouldn’t hesitate to loosen her taser shot at point blank range.

Thankfully, the shapeshifter seemed to realize the severity of the threat, and remained perfectly still while Fang recovered herself, searching through the contents of her utility belt.

“Glad I brought this along for once…” Fang grumbled as she finally pulled out her own set of handcuffs.

The SCS wasn’t really in the same business as the PD of arresting suspects and dragging them back to HQ in the back seats of squad cars, so they also didn’t typically bring along the proper gear for hog-tying their suspects to bring them back.  Of course, these weren’t typical handcuffs they had brought along today.

The handcuffs were not the standard shining silver that officers normally wore; they were a dark, bronzed sheen, with rough, matte-finished runes finely engraved across not only the cuffs but the chain.  When Fang finally slapped and locked the restraint around the shapeshifter’s wrists, the metal glowed briefly and emitted a low whistle before the runes seemed to dissolve and fade away.

At the same time, the shapeshifter’s skin shivered and warped once again, bleaching to a pale, porcelain white even as muscles and bones shrank to a smaller, petite form.  This small woman with short brown hair and dark eyes was the true appearance of the shapeshifter.

The woman smiled, shrugged, and said, “Well, you got me.”

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Light was somewhat dumbfounded by the unusually chipper response.

“Yuffie’s the name!  I have to say, I’m impressed to see that the Nautilus SCS more than lives up to it’s name, even with some humans on the squad.”

“Well, _Yuffie_ ,” said Fang, jerking the handcuffs tight as she spoke the shapeshifter’s name. “Then you’ll be just ecstatic to be hauled into jail by said SCS for charges of theft, fraud, and interfering with a criminal investigation, not to mention for whatever you’ve done to the real Bilken!”

“Nothing!  He’s on vacation, I swear!  I wouldn’t hurt a fly—I’m a thief not a killer.” The small woman gave a guilty smile. “As for the other charges...mercy?”

“Talk to the district attorney for mercy,” growled Lightning. “Now what about the compass box? Where is it?”

Yuffie gave a pained smile this time. “Sorry...I’m just a hired hand.  I already put it in the dead drop spot for pickup that I was told to.  My client is the mysterious type.  Emails only, no ID...not unusual for the underworld, you know?”

Lightning glared without saying anything else to Yuffie, and watched the thief deflate under her menace.  Then she spoke Fang, less than pleased. “Looks like we need to head back to Central to go turn this one in and get more answers.  Let’s get going, Fang.”

_Damn shapeshifters._

“I have to say,” Fang turned toward Lightning to talk as they led their captive criminal back out of the alleyway. “Sending in a shapeshifter just to steal some enchanted little relic seems more than a bit overboard...”

“Wait a second!” Yuffie craned her neck around at them, breaking the silence she had held up until now. “You mean you don’t even know what it is?

Both Lightning and Fang exchanged simultaneous glances, but said nothing.  The shapeshifter was smart, though.

“You don’t!  You really don’t know what it is!”

“That’s enough out of you,” countered a chagrined Fang.

“No wait!” Yuffie actually sounded pleading. “I can help!  Promise!  Then maybe you can put a good word in for me with the district attorney?  Huh?”

When Lightning paused to share a glance with Fang a second time, the shapehifter continued, as if to show her good will.

“It’s the entire why I took the job—even with all the risk and last minute info.  My contact wired me over twice what my usual fee would be, and considering what that little leather box actually holds, I can’t exactly blame whoever they are.”

Lightning was curious now, but she was also rapidly losing patience too. “Well?”

“It’s an unaccounted for djinni.”

* * *

Fang’s fingers tapped against the faux wood of her desk in an impatient rhythm. “We keep hitting on the same point.  But there’s gotta be more to djinni that just the usual “magical being, looking to help you fulfill your every wish” deal!”

“Because I had no idea that “magical beings” did that.” Lightning responded with the first flippant thing that came to mind, and then internally cursed herself at being no more helpful than a child.

They were back in the SCS for now, their shapeshifter-thief being processed by Central for booking.  Fang sounded frustrated, and with understandable reason.  The revelation that Yuffie had given them served to only further complicate their case.  A cursed or blessed talisman was one thing.  A powerful oddity bound to the wishes of whomever owned it was an entirely different situation, and yet Yaag had already said in no uncertain terms that unless there was some kind of further escalation, none of their other squad mates would be helping them on the case.

Lightning leaned back in her chair, wracking her brain and trying to be more diplomatic after her last comment had managed to plaster a scowl on Fang’s face. “Okay, let’s try to go over what we know again.”

She pulled out a new sheet of paper and a pen and began writing quick notes for every point they could rattle off.

“High-powered oddity; restricted to a vessel of sorts...not free to move around...” She mumbled as she wrote down each point, and Fang chimed in with more.

“Don’t forget: follows owner’s—is “owner” even the right word?  Anyway, follows the owner’s wishes...um...”

Both voice and ink trailed off, and Lightning looked back over their meager list critically.

“Fang, we know next to nothing about djinni beside the normal legends and hearsay that anyone else on the street could rattle off.  We don’t even know what kind of powers this thing has.  We need more information on it.”

At Lightning’s persistence, Fang seemed to cave.

“Guess we should probably ask Cid.” Fang sighed and heaved herself up from her desk, beginning to walk across the office. “Cid!”

Lightning followed a half-step behind, less than eager to be at the forefront when they approached their resident walking encyclopedia.

Cid had only just traded in the skeleton mannequin for a new body a day earlier, and Lightning was still having trouble calming herself around his new form.

It was living, but it sure as hell wasn’t human.

Some sort of rare big cat, it stood over four feet tall at the crown of its head and easily seven or eight feet long, and was covered with a thick and bristled red fur, nearly orange on its underbelly and scarred face. The entire look was completed with a prominent brown, Mohawk-styled mane that ran halfway down its back.

He was an exotic predator, imported for underworld animal fights; the gang brands that were burned into his flanks and shoulders were clear indicators of that, in case the both fresh and old scars were not enough.

When the Narc operation had seized him along with the other creatures, they had apparently been at a loss of what to do with the endangered cat.  So, for once, they had approached the SCS, hoping to find a temporary home for the beast while they pushed the paperwork through in the meantime to have the feline sent to a remote wildlife rescue facility.  Eager enough to be done with the skeleton, Cid had readily agreed to the body swap, even if it was only for a week or two at most.

As they approached, Fang clicked her tongue and rubbed her fingers together as if she was walking toward any standard house cat.

“Here, kitty kitty!” She stopped when Cid snorted heavily. “How’s the new body treating you, then?”

The big cat’s lips curled up slightly, in what would have been a sneer on a human but what was instead a terrifying display of sharp teeth.  The only thing to remind Lightning that she didn’t have a death ring fighter animal ready to jump at her was the fact that the creatures eyes were a fluid and luminescent blue, the same color and shade that Cid’s flaming eyes were when he inhabited the skeleton.

“It’s hardly ideal,” Cid scoffed, his scorn coming out more as a low growl. “But certainly a step up from the mannequin.  This specimen at least has flesh and blood on it to manipulate, even if its vocal chords are not quite up to standard.”

He stretched as any household tabby cat would, and the muscles underneath the red fur rippled and bulged, while a set of wicked black claws momentarily extended from his front paws.

“Regardless, it’s good to have a body again.” Having finished stretching, he sat back on his haunches, his blue eyes now focusing in on them with an intelligence no cat could ever possess. “Now, what is it that you need?  Are you any closer to finding your stolen item?”

“Not quite...but we know what it is now.  Cid, what can you tell us about djinn?”

“Djinn, you say?  So, you’re chasing a djinni vessel.  Well, well, well…that makes this all the more interesting, now doesn’t it?”

Fang gave a huff of irritation. “Yeah, yeah, Cid.  We have places to be, you know.”

Cid gave a feline glare, accompanied by a true growl that slowly faded into more of a humming purr as he began thinking. 

“Djinni...hmm...I must confess, I don’t have any significant prior experience with them.  All I know is that they were used extensively by what you know as the Zanarkand Empire.”

“Zanarkand?” asked Lightning, wracking her brain.  She remembered learning about them back in primary school, in history class. “The ancient empire?  That was thousands of years ago, though.”

The cat nodded sagely. “They grew into the largest empire in history for a reason: because they used djinn.  Mind you, I steered clear of them until well after they dissolved.” Lightning started at that.  Just how old was Cid? “They were not the most fond of the fae...”

“Well, how does that help us now?” prompted Fang. “How should we go about handling this?”

“Go talk with the priests of Bhunivelze.”

“Wait...with _who_?”

Lightning wasn’t quite sure of what she was hearing either.

Cid snorted again. “The priests of Bhunivelze.  I may not be an expert on the djinn, but those guys are.  All of the known djinn are carefully recorded and kept by the priests and servants of the Temple system, with—the last time I checked—the High Triumvirate of Bhunivelze controlling the distribution, assignment, and re-collection of all djinn.

“In short,” concluded Cid, the blue in his eyes snapping and flickering like a flame. “If you want to know more about the djinn, then the Temple of Bhunivelze is where you should look.”

* * *

What few windows there were on the SCS headquarter building had long since darkened as afternoon and evening passed into night.  Most of the squad had left to go back to their respective homes, and though Cid was ever present, he had effectively “powered down”, and was sleeping and sprawled out across the cold tiles of the kitchen floor upstairs.

Both Lightning and Fang had quickly devoured the pizza that that had been delivered from around the corner for their dinner, and the discarded large pizza box now sat empty atop one of the trash cans to the side of their desks, waiting for pickup by the janitors at a later time.

Both of them were also nursing their own respective cans of soda, having agreed in their tastes for an evening dose of caffeine derived from the fizzy beverages rather than the piss-poor excuse they had for coffee in the staff kitchen.

They sipped on their sugary drinks in a companionable silence, engrossed with the case notes that were collectively splayed out on their desks.  Lightning again looked over what progress and information they had managed to collect during the course of the day.

The shapeshifter, Yuffie, had been very open and helpful, but as she had forewarned them, her trail ended up going cold.  She had left the djinni-compass in a set dead drop location earlier in the morning, and by the time Fang and Lightning had managed to get to the hollow tree stump in the main park, the compass was long gone, with no sign of who had picked it up.  All they had to go off of for now was the single email address that had been sent to Yuffie with her instructions and the details of her job, and Cyber-Crime was in the midst of a backlog of requests and trying to process and track the IP on the computer that had sent the correspondence.  The last that Lightning had heard from them, whoever had sent the email had been smart enough to encode their internet address and make it look as though their computer was connecting in on the other side of the planet.

She sighed.  Hopefully Cyber Crime would manage to crack it, or the feelers they had put out with their underworld contacts would manage to come back with something soon.  She really, _really_ did not want to go wading through the deep scum of the Nautilus underworld in search of this djinni—she had done enough of that kind of work with Homicide.

“Doesn’t something about this whole thing seems kinda fishy to you?”

Lightning stopped in the middle of her reading and looking up.  The two of them had barely spoken out loud in the past half an hour while they were working in tandem, so Light put her pen down and gave her partner the benefit of her full attention.

“Something fishy _besides_ the fact that we had a shapeshifter impersonating a cop specifically to steal this one item out of an entire cache of dangerous and expensive illegal goods?” Lightning couldn’t help but smile wryly as she brought her soda back to her lips.  She was already finding that, particularly in the SCS, everything was relative.

Fang rolled her eyes briefly, though her lips also tugged upward in a smirk. “Just another day on the job—you should get used to it!” Her shadow of smirk tapered off as she continued her original train of thought, though. “But really, I mean, Farron, don’t you think—”

“Light,” she corrected absentmindedly—they were partners after all; she didn’t need her surname being repeated a hundred times a day. “Call me Lightning, or Light.”

Fang looked more than slightly puzzled and taken off guard for a moment. “Uh, ok… _Lightning_ …so, don’t you think it’s kinda…I don’t know… _weird_ that we haven’t heard anything either above or below ground?”

Lightning set down her cup before it was even halfway to her mouth, now giving her full attention to Fang. “How so?”

Fang leaned back and crossed her arms, her brow narrowed in obvious thought. “I mean…okay, we’re talking about a missing _djinni_ here, not just some fancy jewels or a spell book.  We’re talking about a rare and powerful oddity, but one that our shapeshifting thief was so well paid for, that she didn’t even consider claiming it for herself, despite knowing what it was.”

Which was more than troubling in itself.  Fang didn’t have to speak any further for Lightning to know exactly what she was thinking: someone wanted this djinni very, _very_ badly, and besides having the money to do so, they also wanted to keep things quiet.  That alone indicated to Lightning that whoever they were dealing with would not be easy to track down, and that there was the very real possibility that all of the potential searching they could do in the Nautilus underworld of crime might be for naught.  But at the given moment, what other options did they have?

Troubling, indeed.

* * *

It was another early morning for Lightning, especially considering the relatively late night that she had had at the office with her partner.  Fang certainly wouldn’t be in for another few hours, but Lightning had no such luxury of returning to bed.  She had an appointment to keep at the SCS today.

Today was only the second of what would be many mandatory one-on-one training sessions between she and Ashe, by direct orders of the captain.  Whether it was because of the necromancer case or because Lightning was a simple human, Jihl had never clarified.  What she had been painfully transparent on, though, was that Lightning was to work under Ashe until the other woman had decided that all of her basic martial skills were up to whatever oddity standards Jihl was clearly holding her to.

At least her ability with firearms needed no further work.  Most of the first session with Ashe a few days ago had been spent in the shooting range, going through nearly every kind of gun the department had access to.  Ashe had admitted by the end that only Rygdea had a better eye and hand than Lightning.  They had then briefly gone over hand-to-hand combat, but finished the session with Ashe promising to delve deeper into close-range combatives when they resumed again...which would be today.

Lightning finished pulling her stubborn locks of hair back into a ponytail, and smoothed her gray “Nautilus PD” t-shirt as she exited the women’s locker room and finally made her way down the hall and through the heavy sliding metal doors into the SCS training room, where Ashe already awaited her.

Though it was offhandedly referred to as the “training room”, Lightning thought that term was more than a bit misleading, considering that the “room” was large enough to fit a veritable house or at least a few Olympic sized swimming pools within.  By the far wall and entrance from where Lightning stood were racks filled with training weapons; there were endless varieties of paintball loaded guns, and of rubber-molded blades and sticks, all usually kept locked in place, with the only known set of keys in Jihl and Yaag’s possessions.  However, beyond those sets of training weapons, the vast room was entirely empty, devoid of any other structures or objects, and without even a single window to the outside world.  They had a separate gym facility within the building that had its own weights and machines; they even had their own swimming pool on a level below them.  But this room, with its huge, domed shape, and reflective-tiled walls and ceilings, was intended for something different.

This was a projector room.

When the room was “turned on”, all of those tiles were utilized to create holographic projections of both objects and people, allowing them to train in different scenarios and situations all from the comfort and proximity of their own headquarters building.  It was the most cutting edge of military-grade technology, and Lightning hadn’t even known that there was a projector room in all of Nautilus, let alone one built specifically for the use of the SCS department.

For now, though, it was just Lightning and Ashe, and they were here simply to use the open space, and unfortunately none of the holographic capabilities.

Ashe was fully clothed in the heavy black and padded jacket and pants that served as protective training gear for full contact exercises.  The weapons racks had already been unlocked with the spare set of keys that Yaag had given her, and she easily held two mid-sized rubber training rods in one fist.  Another set of the protective training gear had been set neatly on the ground and off to the side.

“Lightning Farron.” Ashe spoke her name softly—though the sound echoed through the empty training room.  The woman spared no formalities, continuing before Lightning could even respond and nodding her head in the direction of the nearby gear. “You will want to put on that gear for today’s session.  We’ll be working with rods today.”

She then tossed one of the two rods out as Lightning walked over to grab her gear.

Lightning caught the training weapon out of the air, and felt her gut begin to automatically clench as she put on the padded training jacket and leggings over her workout clothing.  If this session was going to be anything like how they had ended last time with hand-to-hand combat…well, Lightning had a feeling she was in for it.

Once she had fixed and tightened all of the padding into proper place, she found Ashe yet again ready and waiting for her.

“We’ll start with your defensive guard from a lateral slash.”

Ashe brought her rod up, clearly waiting on Lightning to begin.  Lightning took her best stance, now readied with her own rod.

Before she could even think to do anything, Ashe’s weapon flew through her clumsily formed guard, thwacking her hard enough on the side of her padded ribs to make her grunt and flinch at the impact.

“And you’d be dead from a hit like that with an actual bladed weapon,” said Ashe, her eyes intent and cool, and giving no quarter. “Fix your guard position.  Again.”

A second attempt was only marginally better, and through the protective layers she already felt the bruises begin to form.

“Again.”

The third time was better than the second, though her guard still broke.

“Again.”

Only when Lightning thought she was nearly at a breaking point did Ashe have her switch to another guard position and maneuver, putting Lightning through the exact same trial over and over again.

Each attempt and each failure was met by the same stern tone and command, repeating ad infinitum until Lightning was certain that if they went only one more round, if she had to brace herself for even just one more blow, she would fail and fall, pride be damned.

But at that exact moment, Ashe stepped back, lowering her rod before turning to replace the training weapon on the racks.

“We’re done for today,” she called out.  She took the training rod from Lightning, locking the weapons both back into the racks.  And then she took her leave from the training room before Lightning could even call out.

With Ashe gone, Lightning finally collapsed onto the matted floor, unable to stay standing for another second longer.  Her clothes had long since soaked through, and the sweat was dripping down her brow and off her nose.  Each breath ripped through her ragged lungs; she was completely certain that every muscle in her body was on fire, and would be horrific mess of fatigued soreness unless she made certain to ice bath later.

After a small eternity of laying against the pleasantly cool floor, she finally mustered the resolve to push herself upright and turn around toward the locker room exit…only to find herself face to face with the most noticeable oddity of their entire department.

“Kimahri?” Her voice sounded surprised, and she knew it, but he had well and truly startled her.  For a person that large, he moved far more silently than what she expected—and Lightning was not one to be easily sneaked up upon.  He stood maybe ten feet away from her, clawed feet planted and furry blue arms crossed over his chest with ease.

His cat-like golden eyes performed a clear survey of her, though his ronso features revealed nothing of what he might have thought.  He spoke finally, sharp canines flashing below his whiskers as his deep voice resonated through the air.

“It seems as though my partner has been working you hard, Claire “Lightning” Farron.”

Normally Lightning would have bristled at the blatant and unapologetic use of her given name, but either she was truly too beaten to care, or Kimahri was an inexplicable exception to her rule of thumb.

Regardless, she ignored it.

“Ashe might be a fantastic weapons master oddity,” begrudged Lightning, feeling more disappointed in herself than bitter at Ashe. “But I’m not.  I’m only human.”

She turned her head downward, busying herself with undoing the various straps so that she could slide back out of the sweaty and used training gear…and so that she could look away from Kimahri.  Only once she was removing the padded jacket did he break the silence again.

“That is a saying amongst you humans, is it not?  To…‘be only human’, correct?”

Lightning nodded in brusque affirmation, still not looking up as she peeled out of the heavy training pants, finally back in her own lightweight workout shirt and shorts, both now plastered to her skin with sweat.

These sessions would be the death of her yet.

“Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca,” Kimahri intoned her full name in his deep and sonorous voice, filled with respect and something else, breaking Lightning’s momentary distraction with her own thoughts. “My tribe takes great pride in our aptitude for combat, but Ashelia can match even the finest of our warlord chieftains one-on-one.  It is good that she is helping you in these matters.”

Lightning looked back up at her compatriot, fighting off the tugging of a frown. “It’s Jihl’s orders, Kimahri.  I’m to have morning training sessions with Ashe, until I’m deemed “proficient” in all of the standard weaponry here.”

Which apparently included a fair bit on non-standard weaponry by other departments’ rule books, though that bit went unspoken.

Another very long moment passed, in which Kimahri held her gaze without break, though she could not say for the life of her what untold thoughts were hidden behind his gaze.  When at last he spoke again, his words were slow but equally as veiled.

“Orders from the captain or no, _Óðins meyjar_ only pick those humans that they think are worthy of their time and efforts.”

“Odi…” Lightning completely mangled the foreign words that he had spoken to describe Ashe, unfamiliar with both the terms and the root language.

Kimahri quirked his head at her, his broken horn rising above the profile of his forehead.

“You have earned the respect and time of one of the Valkyries of Odin’s Valhalla, Lightning Farron.  That is no small thing for a mortal still among the living, so take pride in that as you nurse your bruises and regain your feet.”

Kimahri then unfolded his crossed arms from his chest and held out one clawed and paw-like hand in offering to her.  Lightning reached out and took it, grateful for the offer of help while her mind tried to wrap around the revelation of just what kind of oddity Ashe was.  The whiskers on Kimahri’s face twitched ever so slightly, and Lightning suddenly realized that he was suppressing a grin. “Of course, you should perhaps take the time to stretch and ice later, as well.”

Lightning felt her cheeks heat up, but also felt the corners of her own lips turn upward, matching the now small but visible and encouraging smile that the ronso wore himself.

By the time Lightning had finally showered and changed into more work appropriate clothing, she emerged into the office to find Fang ready and waiting for her, twirling car keys in one hand and drinking coffee with the other.

“Ready to go, Fa—Light?” Fang gestured with her head toward the steaming cup that had been placed on Lightning’s desk. “Grabbed a cup for you; figured you’d need it if you were training with our resident Valk first thing in the morning.  Sorry...I wasn’t sure how you like yours......so I just asked for cream and sugar...”

Lightning normally took hers black, but at the current moment she couldn’t care less.  She finished shovelling down her protein bar and greedily went for the coffee, sighing happily after the first few sips passed her lips.

“It’s fine.  Thanks, Fang.” She paused to take another swallow from her beverage. “Now I’m ready to go.”

Her partner pushed off of the desk. “Then let’s get on with this, yeah?”

* * *

Lightning slid out of the front passenger seat of the car and onto the sidewalk that passed directly in front of main Temple of Bhunivelze in Nautilus City.

The had taken one of the standard, nondescript black sedans that the department kept in order to get here, with Fang claiming driving rights; only fair, Lightning reasoned, seeing as her partner had grabbed the car keys first.

The sedan beeped behind her as Fang locked it, and then the two walked casually down the path and through the great black iron doors that were the entrance to the Temple of Bhunivelze.

Inside, it was a grand cathedral, a wide, aisled nave with vaulted ceilings that stretched toward the heavens, and columned arcades with candled shrines off to the sides.  The temple was both serene and majestic, meditative and grandiose.

And enhancing the architectural splendor everywhere throughout the building—in every which way Lighting looked—was crystal.    Blue, red, violet, black, yellow...every color and every shade imaginable, reflecting and amplifying the light in a way that put the stained glass windows to shame.

Pillars were carved from it, ceiling and floor tiles alike were cut from it, the altar was hewn from great chunks of it.  And above that same main altar in the back of the temple was a completely solid wall of shining white crystal, the large insignia of Bhunivelze carved deeply into the flat face of the twinkling wall.

There was no service currently in session, and the benches and aisles were devoid of any of worshippers.  The only other person in the whole of the building stood near the altar—the priest of temple.

Having spotted them, the robed man raised a hand in greeting and began processing down the aisle to better meet them.

As they approached one another, Lightning took the moment to look over the priest.  He was dressed in the traditional petalled robes of the high priesthood, marked in various shades of red to denote him as the caretaker of this particular temple.  Besides his distinctive garb, he appeared middle-aged, with a pale and clean-shaven face, and streaks of gray starting to pepper his long and otherwise dark hair. 

He cut a charming figure by nearly anyone’s standards, even with his graying hair and crows feet.

For a moment, Lightning was struck with the sudden curiosity of wondering how the man must have looked only a decade or two earlier, when he was in his prime.  She had a hard time believing that he could have looked anything other than strikingly handsome.

“Welcome to one of the halls of the Great Maker, Bhunivelze.” His voice was a pleasant baritone, warm and welcoming and gestured with open palms to them. “I am Braska, the High Priest and caretaker of this temple.  What can I do for you today, my children?”

Lighting inclined her head briefly toward the High Priest in respect, with Fang following suit belatedly. “Thank you, Lord Braska, but we’re here today on business.”

She flashed her SCS badge, and watched the wrinkles on Braska’s face multiply as he grew concerned.

“What can I help you with, officers?  Has something happened?”

Lightning and Fang exchanged glances.

“That’s what we were hoping you could help us with,” admitted Lightning, pulling out a picture of the missing manifest item.

“This antique arabesque compass was smuggled into Nautilus last week for part of a large-scale black market sale,” Fang explained while the priest studied the photo. “The sale was broken up by the police force, but this particular item was deliberately removed from the seizure, and we’re now trying to track it down.”

“Well,” began Braska, sounding obviously confused. “The markings show that it’s probably a relic from ancient Zanarkand…”

Lightning cut to the chase. “We have reason to believe it’s the vessel for an unaccounted djinni.”

Whatever the High Priest was going to say was cut short, and his eyebrows raised high enough that they threatened to disappear into his hairline.

“And just why,” he asked, his voice still calm and collected for all that Lightning could tell he had been caught off guard. “Would you think that?  And just what help do you think an aging priest can provide for you?”

“The priesthood of Bhunivelze monitors all djinn is why,” countered Fang, clearly not looking to play any games on the matter.

Braska’s brow wrinkled in thoughtful concern. “It is true that the Temple keeps track of all the djinn...”

He paused, and his eyes briefly darted back toward them, sharp and searching.

“...though that is one of the more quietly kept facets of our priesthood.”

When neither Fang nor Lightning was forthcoming, he exhaled and continued.

“Now just what do you think it is that I can do for the SCS?  It is true that High Triumvirate in Eden possesses a master list of djinn, but that is only for the _known_ djinn.  If you are truly chasing an unaccounted one, the list will be of no help to you.”

Lightning pocketed away the picture again. “Lord Braska, help us by letting us know just what exactly it is that we’re looking for.  We need to know what we’re up against.”

The priest hummed deep in his throat, worriedly mulling before he finally seemed to reach a decision. “If there is a lost djinni being passed about under the temple’s nose, it must be recovered.  I will help as much as I can, though I don’t know how much aid my information may actually be to you.”

He began by pointing up at the massive rose window that was placed high above the entrance to the temple.  It was multicolored and spherical, with clear depictions of the gods and the various acts of creation.

“As you know, by our teachings, long ago Bhunivelze created the three gods and goddesses, his children: Lindzei, Pulse, and Etro.”

Lightning found herself nodding along.  These were old stories, ones that every child learned on their parents’ laps.

“From the blood of Etro, humans were born—given their own free thought and will, but mortal and weak.  From Lindzei and Pulse came the mighty fal’Cie—creatures of immense power, but forever bound to the dictates of the gods.  Unlike us, the fal’Cie have no free will.  They are the angelic messengers to the gods, bowing before their whims and desires, and unable to violate their precepts.”

This, too, was common knowledge, and when Fang opened her mouth likely to say as much, Braska waved her down, silently asking for patience.

“However, the gods later created upon the earth a third, different being, one that is only mentioned briefly in the writings of our fayth.  They are known by many different names—summonings, aeons, eidolons—though most commonly as djinni, the name given to them by the ancients in the old tongue of the lost Zanarkand Empire.  Bestowed with power more akin to a fal’Cie than a human, these immortal djinn were not bound to the wishes of their maker, but rather to that of their holder.  The ancients in Zanarkand found that these beings of immense power were contained in tiny vessels or _tassah_ , subject only to the will and desires of he or she who held their _tassah_.”

He paused and swallowed before continuing.

“The annals recorded Zanarkand as being the first possessors of djinn, and upon realizing their untapped potential, they began using the power of these oddities to expand their empire as far as the lands stretched.  But, their use of djinn was mired in greed, and a great reason for the downfall of Zanarkand was embedded in their increasingly rash and selfish use of the djinn for individuals’ own personal gain.  So when the great empire finally did fall, rather than allow the djinn to be scattered and picked up by just any person, the Temple of Bhunivelze reclaimed possession of all _tassah_.”

“So you mean to say that the church holds every one of these “immensely powerful” immortal creatures to its own whim?”

Fang’s voice was both plainly skeptical and belittling, however, Braska seemed unaffected.

“It is in the precepts of the fayth that the priests of Bhunivelze shall safeguard the djinn, to keep them from the hands of those who would use them for harm and their own gain, and to watch over their power and temper it with our humility.  It is part of our purpose in serving the Maker.” He then tempered it slightly.[1]  “Of course, djinn are also not nearly so “all powerful” as simple rumor would have you believe.”

“I thought you said that Zanarkand was destroyed by the power of djinn,” criticized Fang, pointing out a flaw to his argument.

And it was true.  The Zanarkand Empire—which Braska had indicated as the apparent collection point of all djinn—had crumbled well over two thousand years ago, with only stone ruins and the records of history left as testament to a nation once so mighty that it almost ruled the world.

“I said that Zanarkand fell in large part because of the abuse of djinn, but the root was in human hubris.” He continued to clarify before he could be interrupted again. “And even so, the world is a vastly different place now than what it was then.  Both technology and the supernatural have greatly advanced.  Djinn are powerful, yes, but they are still limited.  They possess superhuman abilities to fight and heal, yes, but they can be defeated no differently than any other oddity or mortal.  They are far from invincible, especially in the modern day.”

“But still,” Fang seemed unconvinced. “In the wrong hands...”

Braska smiled, once again amused, though it was tempered with a fatherly warmth. “Djinn are hardly handed out to just any of the clergy.  They are presented to only the Proven of the Sanctum or to the members of the High Priesthood, such as myself.  History has taught us better than to place the djinn into  the hands of just anyone.”

“You have a djinni!” proclaimed Fang, surprised.

 His smile grew. “The only one—well, I should say the only _accounted for_ one in all of Nautilus.  We have been longtime friends, Ifrit and and I.” He tilted his head for a moment. ”Would you like to meet him?”

Lightning dared a quick confirmatory glance with her partner.

_I mean, we should know what we’re looking for, right?_

It was a poor excuse, considering the excitement she saw reflected on Fang’s face.

Taking their silence for the obvious assent that it was, Braska lifted his hand before them, flashing a bright diamond-encrusted thumb ring on his right hand.  Then he rubbed the ring with a finger and called out.

“Rise from the lost desert sands—reveal yourself from the Unseen, Ifrit!”

A spark of bright white light emitted from within the largest gemstone on the ring, and when Lightning blinked free the dots from her vision, the previously open space of the temple was now occupied by the hulking form of a dark, fire-wreathed beast—a mess of horns and claws and bulging sinew, with two glittering and intelligent eyes staring out of its head.

It gave a lazy yawn, and Braska smiled both at Ifrit and them. “This, officers, is a djinni.”

* * *

Braska hadn’t been able to give them much more concrete help beyond that.  He didn’t possess the master list of djinn, nor was he familiar with _tassah_ they were looking for or its corresponding djinni—hardly surprising, considering that is was unaccounted.  However, he had informed them that two up-and-coming priests, one of whom was his own daughter, would be arriving first thing tomorrow morning from the High Temple in Eden for a pre-planned retreat of sorts.  They left with his assurances that he would contact the High Temple immediately to make sure that his daughter could bring a copy of the djinn master list with her.

All in all, they had not made as much progress as Lightning would have hoped for the day, but tomorrow would be another day.

Fang had looked more than ready to sit down for another lengthy evening of research and organizing her notes before finally going home, but Lightning didn’t have that option tonight.  She’d had to apologetically take her leave, feeling all the more guilty for leaving early when her partner was going to be pulling another late night.  Thankfully, Fang seemed to have taken no offense by it, only curious as to what plans Lightning had for the evening after such a long day.

It was a fair question, and so Lightning had responded fairly, though with little specification.

She had long-standing dinner plans with her sister that she couldn’t back out of last minute.

And what a night to meet up it was turning into.

The weather, which had been clear and sunny earlier in the afternoon, had quickly clouded over and begun to sour as night fell.  It wasn’t necessarily raining, per say, but the persistent, misting spray had been more than enough to dampen her hair and wet her jacket during her walk over to the restaurant.

It was the icing on top of an already horrendously exhausting day, and she found herself just wanting to follow the sidewalk further back to her apartment so she could skip what was sure to be an emotionally trying dinner.  As much as she yearned for the pillow, Serah was already waiting for her, and Lightning knew she would she would earn for more than her sister’s annoyance if she backed out now.

She darted out of the chilling cold rain and into the the doorway of the local noodle house.

Inside, it was brightly lit and warm, busied with patrons and the sounds of cooking from the kitchen.  Lightning waved away one of the wait staff as he approached her, having already spotted the familiar mop of distinctively strawberry-blonde hair that marked the Farron siblings.

Serah was hunched over her phone, typing into it, and jerked up only once Lightning pulled her chair out at their small table.

“Light, you’re late…again,” Serah didn’t need to even sound accusatory for her older sister to wince.

“Sorry,” Lightning managed as she peeled off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. “Got caught up at work.”

She pushed her hair back out of her face and wiped away a stray droplet of water before it could fall down her face, finally taking her seat.  Serah nodded tightly, her lips visibly pressed together for all that she silently accepted Lightning’s excuse.

“I already ordered for you—if you don’t mind.”

Now it was Lightning nodding back tiredly.  She and Serah used to frequent this spot much more a few years back, so Serah knew Lightning’s favorite dishes by heart.

They descended into a brief, uncomfortable silence as both of them struggled to break the ice and begin simple conversation.

It wasn’t as though things were usually like this between them.  They had grown up side-by-side after their parents passed away, living about as closely as any two siblings could.  Like any sisters, they’d had their moments, their arguments, and their disagreements, but that was expected.  They had still made it through primary school and into early adulthood in one piece.

In the course past year or two, however, things had taken a strong turn southward.  Between Lightning’s long hours as a fully instated police officer—a choice that Serah had never been pleased with—and Serah’s increasingly serious relationship with her boyfriend Snow—a choice that Lightning had never been pleased with—it had really only been a matter of time until things broke down.

Lightning did have to remind herself that it was getting better, though.  Nothing could be as bad as the mix of angry yelling and deliberately cold silences that they had treated each other with a few months earlier.  The fact that they could even meet and talk now was testament to how much things had improved.

In many ways, things had gotten much easier since Lightning had decided to move into her own apartment and Serah had moved in with Snow.  At the very least, it gave Lightning the convenient time and space to herself—two things that it seemed she desperately needed more and more as of late. Things had gotten easier, and the space and time _was_ good for her, but at the same time it certainly had not solved the root of their problems.

The last time she and Serah had spoken face-to-face had been over two weeks ago, right before the necromancer case had closed up.  What was supposed to have been a “nice” evening in with the two of them and Serah’s boyfriend, Snow, had devolved to the point of angry tears, rash words, slammed doors, and only a few hours of troubled sleep for Lightning.  She had, however, possessed enough propensity in the immediate aftermath to realize that she needed more time and space.  There had been simply too much going on in the moment—her new training and subsequent reassignment to SCS, her readjustment to her new apartment and living by herself, her entire _job_ in a nutshell…dealing with family matters on top of it was an explosive disaster, and at least this time around she had mustered the sense to remove herself for a bit rather than get overwhelmed and wind up leaving behind even more regrets for herself.

Of course, now she was here, having not seen Serah in person in over half a month, both physically and mentally drained, and no closer to any answers about how to fix things between the two of them.

The harsh reality of the situation was that Serah had chosen to move in with Snow, and what Lightning thought or did not think of her sister’s large blond boyfriend mattered little.  Serah had made her choice, and Lightning knew that it was now on her to come to terms with that decision—or risk irreparably damaging the only familial bond she had left in this world.

But now was not the time for any particularly deep or introspective conversations; she and Serah had made these dinner plans to try and warm the waters between them once again.  This was supposed to be an easy-going, light dinner meeting.

“I’ve barely heard from you at all the past few weeks.”

Or maybe not.

“Serah, you know I’ve been busy,” explained Lightning wearily, and it was not exaggeration this time. “It’s not even been a month since my transfer went through.”

It was taking her every ounce of resolve to try and appear excited and happy, when all her aching and exhausted body wanted to do was face plant into a pillow.  Already they were off on the wrong foot.  Tired though she was, her mind also recognized the need to try and steer things down the proper course rather than let conversation begin to unravel again.

“It’s been less than ideal, and I’m still getting used to all of the hours, but I did take leave early today to make sure I could get here on time.”

Well, almost on time.

She was momentarily saved by the arrival of their food.

It was a heaping and steaming pile of stir-fried vegetables and meat over a bed of noodles, and her mouth watered at the smell of it as it was set down in front of her.  Lunch was a long-forgotten memory now, and her stomach rumbled uncomfortably in reminder, desperate for more calories to fill it.

She immediately dug into the plate, not wanting to torment her stomach further.

Serah cracked apart her chopsticks at a more leisurely pace, letting her sister get through a few bits before she continued talking.

“So how _is_ work?”

Lightning shrugged as she swallowed down a mouth full of noodles. “It’s work.”

“How is compared to your old spot in Homicide?”

“Eh.” It was getting better, she supposed, especially now that she was actually being assigned to a case instead of on probation.

“What kind of work are you doing?  Any interesting mysteries to solve right now?”  Serah leaned forward over her own plate, her eyes now lighting up with scarcely concealed curiosity.

Lightning frowned.  They had been over this before when she still worked in Homicide. “Serah…you know I can’t discuss case details with you.”

It was true, but not wanting to sour the mood with her blunt responses, Lightning quickly turned the conversation on her sister, asking how she had been doing with her own work the past few weeks.

Serah had finished getting her teaching degree in school only just this past year, and had started working at one of the local neighborhood elementary schools only a few months before Lightning had moved out.  Lightning would never understand the appeal of trying to teach half of those little demons that were called children, but Serah had always had a way with kids, and based on the way she was excitedly chattering on about the class she supervised, the career choice had by no means lost its appeal to her.

After a time, though, even Serah ran out of things to say about her job, and they again quickly descended into a heavy silence, palpable even over the background buzz of the restaurant.

Serah played with her food for a minute, and then started to speak again, clearly venturing cautiously. “So…Snow and I had been thinking about plans for—”

“Can we not, Serah?” Her voice came out harsher than what she intended, a jarring twang against the relatively smooth flow of conversation they had managed thus far.  She saw her sister stiffen at first, taken aback; but then she saw the younger woman’s eyes harden at the affront even as her mouth opened for a retort.

“Please,” Lightning cut her off before she could speak again, this time letting some of her genuine exhaustion and apology for her earlier tone bleed through.  _Just…_ “I can’t.  Not right now.”

She stared into her half-eaten plate of food, unwanting and unwilling to look up and see the mixture of hurt, resignation, and pity that she was almost certain was now present in Serah’s gaze.

“Claire...”

She knew that she should eat more, that she should finish her plate, but she found that she had no desire to.  Her appetite had fled her, leaving her instead with a gnawing discontent where her hunger was supposed to be.

* * *

Lightning stretched her neck for what felt like the hundredth time.  Waiting was always a boring game.  There had been no morning breakthroughs in their search for the djinni, so the early afternoon found them at the main restaurant of the Royale Hotel, waiting for their already late pair of priests to arrive from the Grand Central Train Station and their morning journey from Eden.

It was a sunny day outside, and she had gotten a full night’s sleep, but despite all of that, her entire body ached from her last session with Ashe, and she felt both anxious and on edge.  And that was to say nothing of the muted thoughts that still trickled from last night’s dinner.

She tossed those aside again and tried to alleviate her pervasive moodiness when she felt Fang studying her.  A low dread filled her stomach when she saw her partner open her mouth to speak, but Fang glanced away momentarily, and then said somewhat else.

“Looks like they’re finally here.”

The hostess was leading over two young individuals, a man and a woman, both dressed in the priestly robes of Bhunivelze.

Lightning and Fang both rose from their seats, first making their own introductions and then eyeing their guests as they did the same.

The priest was tall, well over six and half feet and towering above the two of them even from across the small table.  Like the other priests of Bhunivelze, his hair was long, allowed to grow out while his face remained devoid of any hint of a beard or mustache.  For a man, though, his features were lithe and feminine, far more beautiful than handsome.

“Seymour Guado, at your service.” He bowed low.

From around his side came a small and sweet-looking woman, with short brown hair that had a colorful beaded tassel woven into it.  The tassel bobbed up and down when she curtsied politely to them. “And I’m Yuna Al’Bhed.  I believe you spoke with my father, Lord Braska, yesterday?”

Lightning blinked, only now seeing the familial resemblance between the caretaker of the Nautilus temple and the priestess in front of her who was surely no older than herself.

As all four of them sat back down over a light lunch and moved from exchanging vapid pleasantries to actually talking about the case itself, Lightning had to fight back her inner irritation.

Yuna certainly seemed less reserved than Seymour, but both of them seemed equally as young and inexperienced as what they appeared.  Lightning had no doubt that the same thoughts had to be traversing through Fang’s mind: _these_ were the priests that Eden had sent them?  It was laughable. 

Yet exactly why the High Temple hadn’t sent any of its upper clergy along with them was shortly explained by Seymour himself.

“The Triumvirate don’t seem entirely convinced that there is actually an unaccounted for djinni being passed about—understand, such a thing hasn’t occurred in centuries,” he explained, trying to placate somewhat. “That said, they still would like to remain as keyed in on the investigation as possible.  Please inform us of developments as they may occur.”

He then reached across the table to hand Lightning a thick document that was clearly marked “confidential”, along with an officially stamped sheet on top from the High Sanctum in Eden that practically ordered Fang and Lightning to do as Seymour had asked and keep the two young priests of Bhunivelze completely up to date on any changes in their investigation.  The High Temple didn’t actually believe that there was a djinni—and so didn’t want to send any of their senior clergy on a “fool’s errand”; but at the same time they wanted to know every last detail, in case they were proven wrong.

Yuna stepped in. “Enclosed in those documents you will find the full list of djinn and their current holders.  If there is anything else that we can do for you, please, let us know.”

* * *

When Fang and Lightning walked out of the Royale, it was with a two new phone numbers, a confidential document, and nothing else to further their investigation.

“Braska was right, dammit.” Fang cursed, but there was no true bite behind it. “Don’t know what I expected, but the list didn’t help us a wink, and those two priests certainly can’t do much for us either.  It’s back to square one for us.  Guess we need to regroup and rethink.”

Fang continued to grumble to herself as she stomped down the sidewalk toward their car.

Lightning, however, felt her own feet slowing down.

“Fang.”

“Hm?” Fang finally turned around and then stopped short. “Yeah?”

“I...” She took a deep breath, steeling herself before speaking. “I don’t _like_ this, Fang.  This entire thing doesn’t feel right.”

“Lightning...I know it’s frustrating but...”

“No,” Lightning cut her off politely but firmly. “Fang, it’s not just that.  I feel like we’re being led into the dark, walking in circles for long enough to let the clock bleed out so that we won’t be able to get the item.  In my gut, I feel like we’re running out of time quickly.”

By this point Fang’s eyes had locked with hers, both concerned and questioning, and Lightning held the gaze, willing her new partner to understand everything that her instincts were telling her.  She knew that what she was saying didn’t have much clear evidence to back it, but she needed Fang to trust her on this.

The seconds stretched on, and Lightning felt her stomach start to flip unpleasantly and her skin grow hot and flushed before Fang finally spoke.

“We need to talk with Jihl.”

“Uh...” Whatever Lightning had been expecting Fang to say, it was not that.  And she barely had time to collect her thoughts either.  Fang was already walking away toward the car at brisk pace, forcing Lightning to jog a few steps in order to catch up.

“Fang...”

“The captain will need to get us the clearance to make use of a psychic tracker, and if we want a dowsing performed, it needs to be done as soon as possible,” Fang explained in quick, curt tones, unlocking the car and swiftly hopping into the driver’s seat.

Lightning had barely grabbed her seatbelt when they lurched forward, taking off from the curbside with their flashing blue lights now on.  Confused, she turned toward her partner again, and caught a glimpse of a serious jawline and tensed brows.

As if sensing her confusion, Fang explained herself while weaving in and out of the rush hour traffic. “Lightning, you know this business just as well as I do.  If something doesn’t sit well in your gut, you follow up on it.  You don’t just let that shit go.  If you say that you think something’s wrong, then we both work to follow up on it.  We’re partners after all.  Unless they did it differently in Homicide...?  Good, then lets get back to HQ.”

For the first time all day, Lightning felt herself relax a bit, the tension that had been unknowingly present in her shoulders finally draining somewhat, providing an immediate physical relief.

Fang was right, of course.  That was how partners were supposed to work.  But this was also her first case with her new partner, and Lightning would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to be apprehensive on voicing her concerns to Fang.  If the woman had been skeptical or dismissed her outright, it would have destroyed what budding trust Lightning was trying to develop with her squad mate, and that Fang was presumably trying to develop with her.

Fang wasted no time in calling ahead to the office to try and get clearance.  Because she was on her phone, Lightning could only hear half of the conversation, but what she heard suddenly reassured her.

“Yeah...yeah, I trust her instincts.  I know the going rate is sky high, but...this is a djinni we’re trying to chase after.  Lightning’s right: how much more time do we really have left?”

There was a long silence on Fang’s end, a few more words, and then the call ended.  But when Fang finally pulled the cell phone from her ear, there was a wide smile on her face.

“Well?” Lightning tried to keep the slight tremor of nervousness and excitement free from her voice.

“We got it,” Fang confirmed. “Hopefully they’ll have the dowsing mystic there by the time we get back.  Yaag’ll be pissy because we’re paying an arm and a leg for the services, but...somehow Jihl actually agreed to it, so I don’t give a shit what he thinks.”

They were quiet for the rest of the long car ride.  Fang focused on the heavy traffic while Lightning found herself staring out of the window and suddenly very, very grateful for the trust that Fang had placed in her.  She might not have super strength or super speed or any of the million and one attributes that oddities could possess, but she could work hard, and she would do her damnedest to see this case through.   

When they finally made it back to HQ and walked out of the elevator from the parking garage, Yaag was waiting for them, clipboard ever in hand, and a small tic twitching at his temple.  His voice was clearly vexed.

“Hurry up.  We’re practically paying by the minute for this, and I can assure you these kinds of services were _not_ planned for in our annual budget.”

Lightning nearly had to jog to keep up with the lieutenant’s pace as he led them to one of their small conference rooms, a cozy little space that was removed from the general hustle of the main offices with only enough room for a small table and a few chairs.  As soon as she entered the room, Lightning came face to face with a middle-aged woman wearing a fine silken dress and looking as calm and collected as though she were at home and they were her visitors.

She looked as out of place in the building as a peacock among sparrows.

“You must be Fang and Lightning, then,” she said, bowing slightly.  Lightning noticed the circular tattoo between the woman’s blonde eyebrows, and how the matching color of her irises to it gave it the unsettling effect of appearing like a third eye. “I am Belgemine.  I was called in to do a reading for you.”

“Thank you,” said Fang, bowing back.  Lightning hastily followed suit, unsure of the proper protocol around a mystic.

Belgemine grabbed two items from the table.  One was a picture of the missing compass box, and the other was the original evidence bag that had held the smuggled item.  Yuffie had grabbed the entire bag when she stole the _tassah_ , but hadn’t passed on the bag on at the dead drop location.  They had reacquired the bag when bringing the shapeshifter in.

Belgemine continued, holding up both the photo and the bag. “Lieutenant Rosch tells me that you’re searching for this missing compass box.  Normally, to dowse for a lost item I need something that has strong or recent psychic residues of the item.  Unfortunately, it’s been days since your compass last touched this bag.  Almost all of the psychic residue has been dispersed.  It would be impossible for me to dowse over the length of Nautilus with only this to work on.”

_What?_

Fang was not so quiet in voicing her disbelief, though. “What?!  Then why the hell did you have to bring us here just to tell us that?”

“Wait.” Yaag’s command cracked through the air like a whip, halting their protests. “When having to trace over an entire city, then as she said, it can’t be done.  But luckily, it seems as though Cyber Crime was actually able to resolve something instead of simply wasting our time.  They can’t pinpoint an exact IP location, but they’ve been able to narrow down the signal location to this area.”

He rolled out a large map onto the table.  It wasn’t a city map, but rather a close-up of a specific district along one of the waterfronts of Nautilus, with rectangles and squares drawn in to match the locations of buildings.

“That’s the old warehouse district by the docks,” said Fang, quickly placing the streets and buildings.

That section of the docks was old and decaying, half-abandoned after they had built a new, far larger port in the bay about ten years ago.  As a result, the old warehouse district had also become well-known for being a cesspool for more...questionable activity and transactions, particularly in the smuggling ring.

“There’s hundreds of buildings in there,” pointed out Lightning. “If we start trying to search all of them, it doesn’t matter how subtle or forceful of a search; we’ll spook anyone in the area who uses those haunts.  Unless we’re lucky enough to pick the right building first, our targets will be out of there _with the djinni_ before we can even get them in our sights.”

“That’s where I come back in,” interrupted Belgemine. “While there isn’t enough residue left for me to search over the whole of the city, I can attempt a dowsing over a much smaller area such as the old docks.  Mind you, with so little to work with, I still can’t guarantee, but I can certainly try.”

Yaag nodded brusquely. “Then let us stop ticking away time and begin.”

“Alright.” Belegmine nodded and settled herself into a chair, rearranging her skirts so that she was comfortable.  Then she looked up at Fang and Lightning. “Officers, I need both of you to focus your minds and calm your thoughts.  You’ve worked the closest on this missing item, so concentrating your psychic energies on it may help aid me in this.”

Lightning had no idea what that meant, but thankfully Fang asked before her confusion became apparent.

“What do you need us to do?”

“Picture the compass box in your head.  Envision its every detail and color. Concentrate on what you think it will feel like in your hand.  Focus entirely on the object and hold it in your mind.”

It was initially a bit of struggle to push all of her other thoughts and apprehension out of the way, but she managed it, and watched, now feeling strangely objective and detached, as Belgemine held the empty evidence bag in one hand, and with the other held out a small pointed pendant, dangling from a thin gold chain.

The mystic closed her eyes and began slowly moving her hand over the map, the tip of the pendent hovering a mere inch above the paper, wobbling slightly every so often.  Lightning’s curiosity grew, and she began to wonder just how Belgemine’s oddity talent worked until the woman hissed at her, her voice strained, “Focus! I need you to focus, officer!”

There was no time to even feel abashed.  She nearly threw the image of the arabesque compass box back into her mind, envisioning it as though it was floating right in front of her eyes, as though she need merely reach out to touch it.

The pendant stopped directly over one of the buildings, and the mystic’s eyes snapped open, focused and sharp.

“That’s it,” she stated, her voice filled with complete certainty. “That is where your missing object lays.”

“Are you sure?” asked Yaag, though the tone of his voice made it sound as though the question was a formality more than anything else.

Lightning was already furiously recording down the address on her notepad even as Belgemine voiced her confirmation of the dowsing.  Fang shot upright and pulled the car keys from her pocket.

“No time to waste!” she said. “Let’s roll!”

* * *

The old warehouse district on the dock was predictably quiet, almost eerily so.  The sun was quickly setting on the ocean horizon, and the long shadows cast by the decrepit warehouses hid any sign of movement, though Lightning knew that the many of the buildings were far from abandoned.

They drove neither too slow nor too fast, trying not to draw any unwanted attention as they made their way over pavement and then gravel to reach the building that Lightning had marked down.

The warehouse looked as abandoned as any of the others from the outside, but that meant nothing.

Rather than drawing attention by going through one of the doors, they managed to sneak in through a partially opened window, dropping silently into the darkened main storage space of the building.

The warehouse room itself was fairly empty; there were a few crates and box lined against the walls, but they were all coated with the dust of disuse.  This building could easily have been mistaken as truly abandoned, were it not for the lighted office at the far end of the warehouse.

Lightning pulled her Sig out, nodding as Fang followed suit.  With her free hand, Fang then made a few coded motions.  They needed to remain as quiet as possible while the moved in on the office, lest they alert whomever was there.  They crept, going little faster than a snail’s pace, but without making even the faintest sound.

As they approached the soft, yellow light of the office, voices finally drifted to Lightning on the air.  They were rough and gravelly to her ears, and as she and Fang silently approached the corners of the open doorway, they were able to surreptitiously look in, gauging the situation from where they squatted in the dark.

“...second payment.  Send the email out now.”

The occupants of the small office were three men, each fairly non-descript with brown hair, brown eyes, and tall, willowy frames.  Lightning scanned both their figures and the messy shelves and desks of the office space, but saw no sign of any weapons nor of the _tassah_.  Fang shook her head to quietly indicate the same conclusion.

So.  They were dealing with three apparently unarmed smugglers, in a small enclosed space, with no indication yet as to whether or not their smugglers were human or oddity, and if they had some other less obvious weapon at their disposal.

They would need to approach this strategically, determine what would be the best method.

Abruptly, one of the men stopped whatever he had been busying himself with on the the laptop computer, stiffened, and then screamed.

“Intruders!”

All three sets of heads immediately turned to hone in on where Lightning and Fang still crouched, half hidden in the shadows.  The man closest to her let out an inhuman screech, opening his mouth to reveal a set of pointed and needle sharp teeth.

“Imps!” yelled Fang, having identified just what the smugglers were. “Quick!  Iron!”

Lightning didn’t even waste time to think.  She reached for the pouch of iron fillings at her belt and chucked it forward as hard as she could.  It struck the closest imp on his chest, spraying tiny flecks of iron in every direction.  The imp immediately exploded into a cloud of gray smoke, banished back to the fae Otherworld.

The other two fae shrieked as stray flecks of iron latched onto them, burning and creating smoking holes where they touched.  Then, with a last bitter glare, they hissed and disappeared into corresponding puffs of smoke.

Lightning continued to stare blankly for a few second even after the smoke had cleared and Fang was already moving forward.  She had never used iron on one of the creatures of the fae before, and now she understood why iron was never allowed into official meetings with fae oddities.  The combination was...reactive, to say the least.

“Fucking mercenary little bastards, imps are...even by fae definitions.” Fang grumbled as she stalked over toward the computer. “Fuck! The little prick busted in the computer right before he smoked out!”

Lightning only half-listened as she scanned the mess of a room, carefully searching.

“—fucking won’t even be able to pull anything off the hard drive now!”

A string of cursing promptly followed, but Lightning’s attention had now been caught, and she couldn’t even register was her partner was saying anymore.

“Fang.”

“…bloody bullshit, I tell you!  Dealing with this…”

“Fang!”

At last hearing the mix of urgency and wonder in Lightning’s voice, Fang turned around and caught what Lightning’s gaze had been transfixed by.

There, sitting on the back corner of one of the side tables, looking nearly forgotten next to the piles of papers, was the missing item 0074-D15B, the antique arabesque compass box and djinni _tassah_.

Fang reached out for it, and it was only when her fingers firmly closed around the small leather box that the look of disbelief faded into a satisfactory grin.

_Mission accomplished._

“Perfect.  Well, let’s head back, Light.  We got what we came for, so we can let Narc or one of the other departments finish combing this place later.

They sent in a quick radio message in to HQ to let Yaag know that they’d nabbed the missing item and would be back soon.  Lightning also took the moment to shoot a text to Yuna and Seymour to let them know of their success.  The priests could meet them back at the SCS building to start processing the paperwork so that they could get the djinni back into the temple’s possession.

Lightning led the way out of the smuggling office, back through the open storage space of the warehouse.  She was halfway across the room when she realized Fang had only followed her partway. 

“What is it, Fang?” Lightning quirked her head ever so slightly, raising an eyebrow. 

For her part, Fang held out the compass in her hand, studying the patterns on the box before finally raising her gaze to meet Lightning’s.

“Shouldn’t we...you know...check to make sure this is the real _tassah_?”

Lightning took a few steps back until she stood next to Fang again.  She looked long and hard at the item held before her.  It matched every single detail of the photo they had been given in the case file.  There was nothing to indicate that this could be a fake.  But...

“Are you saying we should try to summon the djinni?” she finally asked.

Fang gave a half-grin, seeming somewhat sheepish, but continued. “I mean, we need to make sure we have the actual thing, right?  The antique doesn’t matter; it’s about the djinni.”

Lightning had to agree. “Right.”

Then they both proceeded to simply continue staring at the small box that Fang held in her hands.  When Braska had summoned his djinni, he seemed to have spoken a specific phrase, but Lightning had no idea if they needed to do the same.

“Well,” prompted Lightning after a few long seconds of silence. “It was your idea to check.  Give it a shot.”

Fang coughed once, and then called out in a hard and commanding voice, holding the up the compass box in the palm of her hand. “Djinni…I don’t know your name…but come out!  I summon you!”

A few seconds of painfully awkward silence passed.  Fang’s cheeks reddened slightly, but just as Lightning opened her mouth to say something, a great golden sigil lit up the air before them.  The sound of cracking glass reverberated through the warehouse, and a moment later the sigil dissolved away and in its place a great creature now towered over them, a glittering halo reminiscent of the sigil hovering over its backside.

They had found their missing djinni.

It was dragonesque, in its own way, but also somewhat else.  It stood on its talon-decorated hind legs, chest puffed out and forearms crossed, and vast wings spread out to its sides.  It was huge, majestic, and awe-inspiringly terrifying, and every inch of it seemed to be plated in jewels and gems—shards of glossy obsidian, winking rubies, and glittering gold.  It could have been mistaken for a statue, were it not for the slow but steady movement of its chest as it breathed in and out.

_By your mortal tongue, I am best called Bahamut._

The words boomed inside of her head, startling her until she looked over and saw the same expression on Fang’s face.

“You…you can talk?” Her partner managed not to sound _too_ incredulous.

_Clearly._

Fang chuckled somewhat nervously at the amused response, rubbing one hand against the back of her neck.  Lightning, too, found herself resisting the urge to take a step back and shuffle her feet.

“Well...uh...”

_What do you need of me?_

Lightning glanced at Fang before the woman began trying to explain herself to the supernatural creature.

“Actually...um...we don’t really need anything right now.  We were just, uh, making sure you were there.” There was a long pause. “So, you don’t have to be out and about at the moment.”

If the djinni thought anything of this, Lightning couldn’t tell.  His voice echoed through their heads once again.

_As you wish._

Abruptly, Bahamut’s entire form burst into many balls of glittering light, which then disappeared back into the small compass box.

With the djinni gone, the warehouse now seemed almost eerily empty.  Lightning cleared her throat after a moment, and even that small sound echoed loudly. “Well, let’s get going, then.”

It was dark outside; the sun had long since set and now the only sources of light came from the old flood lamps posted along the sides of the warehouses.

They rounded the corner toward the parking lot where the had left their car, and in the open gravel lot, a lone figure waited for them.

“Seymour!” Lightning exclaimed, somewhat surprised.

Fang chimed in. “How’d you get here so fast, mate?  This is no place for a priest like you to be wandering about...”

She trailed off, slowing down before stopping entirely.  Lightning stood still alongside her, the small hairs on the back of her neck beginning to stand on end, a bleeding anxiety beginning to ball up in her stomach.

“Where’s Yuna?” asked Fang, her eyes visibly darting beyond Seymour and into the darkness.

He clucked softly and held out two cell phones. “I’m terribly afraid she didn’t get your confirmation text.  She’s back at the hotel downtown, you see.” He shook his head then, a small smile twisting his lips upward. “But enough of this dancing around, ladies.  I must confess, I did not expect you to be as effective in your search as what you were.”

Fang stiffened next to her, and Lightning began slowly creeping her hand toward her gun holster until Seymour’s voice cut across the distance between them, now sharp and undeniably threatening.

“I would stop that now, if I were you, Ms. Farron.”

Her hand froze only inches away from her Sig Sauer.  Seymour did not appear to visibly armed, but that meant nothing.

Fang challenged him. “What are you playing at, Seymour?”

His voice returned to the same friendly tone that it had taken before. “Why, exactly what you must have deduced by now!”

“But...why?” It didn’t fully make sense to Lightning, and she didn’t truly care to to know, but she was trying to buy time, to figure out a plan.. “Why do this when you already have a djinni of your own?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Because.  The opportunity to hold two djinni at my command...?  No one else in the whole of the world holds that power, though I am about to be the first.”

Lightning was incredulous. “You can’t seriously think you’re going to get away with this.”

“Oh, but I think I will,” he said, the smile on his face growing. “You see, you two may have been an unforeseen hurdle in my collection of this djinni, but you will soon be a forgotten one.”

A grin was fully plastered across his face, and he reached into the gown of his priestly robes to grab something.

Fang and Lightning acted simultaneously, both drawing their handguns and opening fire on him.

The shots never hit their mark, though.  The bullets whizzed toward their intended target, and then stopped dead in midair, a scant foot away from Seymour.  They fell to the ground, as flattened and useless as though they had struck an invisible wall of concrete. 

In the wake of the gunfire, an eerie, ominous laughter grew.

“Fools.  You poor, poor fools.  Now you’ll pay for your insolence.” Seymour held up his left arm, letting the sleeve fall down so that his wrist and a heavy leather bracer that he wore were open to the air.  He rubbed the surface of the bracer with his right arm, and spoke the words of an invocation.

“Resonate!  I summon you, Anima.  Reveal yourself from the Unseen!”

The air shimmered and wavered in front of Seymour, as though from a heat wave.  Then the molecules condensed, and his djinni took physical form, towering above them.

Unlike the grandeur of Bahamut—intimidating though it was—Anima held no such pretenses once materialized.  The djinni was the very embodiment of raw and primal fear and horror, a giant, vaguely humanoid mass of mummified skin, wrappings, and chains.

And the effect was more than just visual.

Lightning felt her entire body break out into an immediate and severe cold sweat, and she doubled over, nearly taking a knee at the sucker punch of nausea that struck her clear in the stomach.  Somehow, she managed not to keep her feet, but a quick but pained glance confirmed that Fang was suffering no differently than her, crouched over and face ashen, visibly trembling beneath the agony of the sudden unseen assault on their senses.

She tried to call forth the resolve and will to do something, but felt her mind and body alike failing.

“B-bahamut,” Lightning heard Fang’s voice through the haze of pain, choked out through gritted teeth. “Shield us!”

And then he was there, materialized and in full physical form, this time with his great golden halo and his back facing them as he stood between them and Anima.

The results were immediate.

Even though Fang held the _tassah_ —the compass—Lightning felt the effects as soon as djinn was called in front of them.  The terrible cramping nausea eased; she was able to stand fully upright again.  And though occasional tremors still ran through her muscles, it seemed as if Bahamut now shielded her from the worst of Anima’s oppressive aura.

Seymour was no longer laughing.  In fact, his face was now a deadly serious mask of intent.

“So you would use my own djinni against me...” His fists clenched, and his knuckles turned even whiter. “Very well, then.  Prepare yourself.  Anima!  Inflict Pain upon my enemies!”

Small explosions of light erupted across Bahamut’s glittering figure, and he roared in clear pain, thrashing his head to and fro. 

Lightning felt her breath catch in her throat, felt the terrible panic that had threatened to engulf her only moments earlier begin to well up again.  If Bahamut fell, they were done for.

“Fang!” her voice cracked, but she couldn’t even care. “Do something!”

Fang jerked and shook herself. “Right!  Bahamut!  Fight back!  Give ‘em hell!”

Bahamut’s wings snapped closed before reopening, and the halo on his back spun quickly before emitting a sharp bolts of light that struck Anima full on.

The opposing djinni staggered and swayed, its mouth open in a silent scream that still sent cold shivers across Lightning’s skin.

“Enough!” Seymour snapped, his eyes flashing. “End them, Anima! Send them to Oblivion!”

The ground beneath Anima suddenly seemed translucent to Lightning’s eyes, as though it were water; and beneath the surface something moved.  She saw the outline of another face even more tattered and horrific than the main one of the djinni above ground.

Fang’s voice didn’t even bother to hide the tremulous fear underneath it this time. “Bahamut!  Everything you’ve got, big guy!”

Bahamut let out another roar, this one sounding more like a lion’s challenge, and then dropped onto all fours, resettling himself and digging his black claws deep into the earth.  A loud whirring grew in the air as his halo began to spin again.  It moved faster and faster, become a luminescent blur as his mouth opened and a great orb of white light formed before his snout.

At the same time, dark shadows amassed on Anima’s side, coalescing together.  Both attacks launched simultaneously, beams of blinding light meeting in a cataclysmic clash that forced Lightning to shield her face from the pain it caused her eyes.

When she was able to look back, blinking away the tears, it was to see both Anima and Bahamut dissolving away into bright sparkles of multi-colored light, and then vanishing back into their respective _tassah_.

Lightning felt her the blood begin pounding in her ears.

Rather than showcase the same ire as before, Seymour unexpectedly threw his head back and laughed at the impasse. “Bravo... _bravo_!  Truly, he shall be a magnificent djinni to possess if he is Anima’s equal!  But enough of this farce.”

He reached again into the folds of his robe, and then froze as a new voice rang out, clear and feminine. “Seymour!”

All of them whipped around to see Yuna march into the light of the parking lot, a frightened looking cabbie about a hundred yards behind her indicating just how she had managed to get out here.

“What are you doing Seymour?  Stop this madness!”

Seymour’s eyes were wide, his face twisting terribly with a mixture of panic and sheer fury. “No!  What are you doing here?!”

Yuna’s eyes scanned over the scene, and were hard when they returned to her comrade’s face. “I realized you left, so I traced you here.  Never did I think that this would be the reason for you to slink away without a word.”

Seymour’s face first went incredibly pale, and then multiple shades of red, each deeper than the last. “You shouldn’t have come here, Yuna!  You should have stayed at the hotel and in your ignorance.  Now I have no choice but to—”

He was cut off by Yuna as she reached up and grabbed the beaded tassel that was woven into her hair.

“Come down from the heavenly winds!  Reveal yourself from the Unseen, Valefor!”

Yuna’s djinni appeared in a great gust of wind that that forced Lightning to step back momentarily.  Floating in the air above them all was a fantastical winged beast, beaked and horned and in an array of red, purple, and yellow colors that dazzled the eye as much as Bahamut had.

“NO!” Seymour screamed in what could only be called psychotic rage. “No!  I will not—”

“Valefor! Restrain him!”

The djinni flapped its mighty wings once, almost casually.  The wind surged around Seymour, and a moment later his arms and legs snapped together, and then he slowly tumbled to the ground, mouth sealed shut and bound by whatever invisible bonds Yuna had commanded Valefor to inflict upon him.

* * *

“I just…I don’t understand,” confessed Yuna, now finally looking distraught at not at all like the severe young priestess who had dragged her criminal partner in for justice a mere hour earlier. “Both Seymour and I have been at the seminary in Eden for the past few years.  I don’t understand how he would have even found out about an unaccounted djinni like this, especially when no one else knew a thing.”

Lightning repressed an inner sigh upon overhearing the response, and watched as Fang offered the priestess a cup of tea to calm her nerves.  As Yuna began sipping on it, Fang made her way back toward their desks and toward Light.

“Well,” she lamented, leaning against the edge of the desk and towering over Lightning. “It was worth a try.”

Lightning shrugged.  She hadn’t been expecting for anyone to know much of anything.  All of the current evidence pointed toward Seymour working alone, a rogue within the temple system.  And considering the way he had begun laughing to the point of tears as he was led away to Central for booking, she had a sneaking suspicion that that it would be a long time coming before they got any answers from Seymour Guado, if ever at all. 

Her musings were interrupted when the door to the captain’s office re-opened at last.

Jihl exited from it first, with both Braska and Yaag both in tow after her.  All three faces looked equally tight and displeased.

“If there is anything else you need,” said Braska as they approached the desks, sounding perfectly polite and curt. “You know how to contact me.  Yuna, are you ready to go?”

“Yes, father!” She shot upright, setting aside what was left of her tea.

Braska took one step toward the door and then stopped, turning back to Jihl and Yaag. “Oh, and the _tassah_?  I need to return that to the High Triumvirate of the Temple—”

“To keep it from falling into the wrong hands?” Jihl finished for him, her voice soft but undeniably mocking, and she made no move to respond to his request.

Braska stiffened as though physically struck, and his jawline clenched visibly.

“That was uncalled for,” he spoke, barely above a whisper. “You know the edicts of the High Sanctum, and they are absolute.  The djinni belongs to the Temple.”

Jihl said nothing, her lack of response answer enough itself, and merely stared at him, extending the staring match between the two of them into an obvious contest of wills.

A flicker of movement caught Lightning’s eye, and she realized for all that her captain was standing motionless, her shadow was not.  The dark penumbra she cast was neither still nor human in form, constantly moving and shifting, hinting at a black shape far more massive that the five and a half foot woman from which the shadow came.

The silence dragged on, the tension rising as neither spoke, refusing to break eye contact in a wordless confrontation that strained Lightning’s every nerve with the effort of trying to keep still.

Then, Jihl smiled, softly and disdainfully, relaxing her posture even though her shadow remained vast and imposing.  She reached into her suit jacket and pulled out a choice and expensive looking case of cigarettes, selecting one of the black rolled delicacies before replacing her case.  A moment before the tip of the cigarette touched her pale lips, she glanced back at Braska and spoke diminutively.

“Go ahead and have you trinket then.” She took a deep drag from the unlit cigarette, and exhaled dark smoke before waving at Yaag to pass over the _tassah_ to the priest of Bhunivelze.

Braska inclined his head and took the compass box, replacing it into some hidden pocket in the deep folds of his priestly garment. “Thank you.”

His voice only wobbled slightly.

As the door opened to let the two servants of Bhunivelze out, Jihl spoke one last time, looking as casually dangerous as a jaguar dangling in a tree branch.

“Oh, and Braska…do tell your superiors at the High Sanctum to please be more careful with their toys in the future.  The next time they decide to play on my turf, I might not play so nicely.”

Braska’s lips were tight at the perceived challenge, but he said nothing, instead turning back and leaving the building.  Even from the distance that separated them, Lightning could see the pallid sheen of sweat on his pale features, and she shivered at the smile that played on Jihl’s features for a long moment.

Then the captain turned that smile on her and Fang. “Well done.  I expect the full report on my hands tomorrow morning at eight sharp.”

Lightning exchanged a mournful and resigned glance with Fang as Jihl and Yaag left.  It looked like it was going to be another long night for the two of them again.

_Report filed.  Case closed._

 

 

 

 


	3. Case 003: Unseelie Acts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When one of their own is snatched from under their noses, Lightning and the rest of the SCS have to pull out the stoppers on every last connection they have for a rescue operation, and Lightning learns more than what she bargained for about dealing with oddity crimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Z. Because. Just because...

Lightning yawned as she continued walking down the sidewalk and toward the SCS headquarters.  It was a quarter before eight—later than what she would normally be in at, but she had been particularly tired after a grueling session with Ashe yesterday morning followed by non-stop paperwork for some closed cases of hers.  So when her alarm had gone off at its usual early hour this morning, for once she had voted in favor of re-setting the blasted thing and sleeping in for a bit.  Granted, she would now have to deal with the kitchen coffee at work if she wanted her caffeine fix, because she didn’t have time to run and grab her normal morning cup elsewhere.

Upon rounding the last street corner, her eyes lit on something both terribly familiar but horribly out of place, and she felt her skin prickle with worry.

The front of the SCS building was cordoned off.  There were cop cars still flashing their red and blue lights, and the entryway was blocked off by multiple officers and even a golem.  Lightning closed the rest of block the separated her from her work.  Why she hadn’t gotten a call about whatever this was, she didn’t know, but she needed to get in and figure out what was going on. 

As she moved in, one of the officers held out a firm arm to stop her.

“This is not open to public access, miss.”

Lightning bit back her immediate annoyance and pulled her badge from where it was hooked onto her belt, flashing it to the cops that guarded the entryway.

“I work here!  Let me through!” The officers stepped aside quickly and waved down the golem to let her through the doors.  The snide whispers of “odd job” went unheeded by her ears.  She was trying not to panic, but she nearly jogged into the main office room, and came face to face with the scene of the crime.

The forensics team was already there, steadfastly collecting potential swabs of DNA and fingerprints, though Lightning quickly noticed a distinct lack of any crime to her.  Besides the yellow tape near the captain’s office, there was nothing to immediately warn her senses.  There was no scent of blood, no ransacked room or torn up appearances to speak of.  Perhaps it was simply from all of the time spent in Homicide.  Had it biased her perception of a crime scene?

The captain and Yaag were both deep in conversation with with a police chief and, Lightning realized with a start, a wizard.  She wanted to figure out what was going on, but knew better than to interrupt, particularly considering the look on Jihl’s face. 

Thankfully, most of her squadmates were in already, and she saw Fang leaning against the far wall closest to their desks.

Only once she was a few paces away did Lightning speak.  There was only one thing to be said. “What’s going on?”

Fang had her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall, and her fingers drummed against her bicep and over the vivid tattoo that colored it.  Her face was uncharacteristically dark and brooding.  She pointed with her chin toward the skeleton mannequin that was outside the captain’s office—Lightning hadn’t even taken notice of it upon her entrance.

“It’s Cid.  He’s gone.”

The skeleton was the form that Cid had reverted to after having to abandon his pixie host, in the continued absence of any other living bodies to utilize. 

But for all that the skeleton model lay there, of their resident encyclopedia there was no sign.

The mannequin was lifeless and inanimate, without the faintest familiar hint of blue coming from the eyes.

Cid was gone.

* * *

 

Yaag Rosch walked back and forth at the front of the conference room, glowering at the whole of the SCS squad that was seated before him.  Jihl sat by herself in a back corner, predictably smoking, but looking dark and brooding for once, instead of usual cool amusement.

“...is of highest priority,” debriefed Yaag. “All other open investigations are to be put on hold until we resolve this, understood?”

Lightning nodded and spoke in low agreement alongside her squadmates.

Apparently satisfied with the response, Yaag nodded briskly, and walked over toward the conference room computer.

“At 3:08 this morning, all security cameras on the outside of the building went dead, followed thirty seconds later by the interior lobby cameras.”

He clicked a few buttons on the computer interface, and the holographic projector screen showed the early morning feeds from the cameras as they all systematically turned to static.

“Despite this malfunction, the internal alarm was not triggered, and the system did not return online until exactly seven minutes later at 3:15:30.00.”

The screen switched to a camera trained on the office, and where in prior frames Cid’s skeleton had been standing in a corner, it was instead now in a crumpled and disorganized heap.  Yaag closed the feed, and turned toward them, his eyes as hard as granite.

“During that surveillance blackout, security failed and Cid was taken.” Yaag stopped, took the extra moment to look them all in the eyes, one by one. “Officers, we are, by all indications, dealing with professionals.  After extensive analysis and outside consultation, we can judge by the sophistication of the break in and our current difficulty in tracing it that our perps are fae.  That gives us at least some manner of a starting point, if meager, so get going from there.  This is top priority.  We need to find and recover Cid as soon as possible.  Any breakthroughs in the case are to be reported immediately and directly to myself.”

He passed out case files to all of them, and once finished, turned around to face the last and solitary occupant of the room. “Captain?”

Jihl uncoiled herself from her seat, and the overhead fluorescent lights seemed to dim in Lightning’s eyes, as if covered by shadow.  The captain’s gaze was far away, and as she walked down the length of the conference room, her footsteps seemed to thunder against the carpeted floor.

“This matter is of utmost importance to me.  These kidnappers came into _my_ office, which is under _my_ explicit domain, in order to take someone who is under _my_ ward.  You will find whoever is responsible, and you will find Cid and return him safely.” Her eyes flashed up at all of them, and Lightning felt her muscles inadvertently tense at the venomous glare that she briefly caught. “And you will not fail.  Understood?”

Lightning, and all of her squadmates, gave sharp salutes.  It was hard not to keep from loudly letting out the breath she had been holding as Jihl left the room with Yaag behind her.  For the captain to take a personal interest in any of the cases or ops they worked was rare, and though this was a clear and understandable exception to that trend, it didn’t make her any less intimidating.

If the nature of the crime itself wasn’t motivation, the potential ire of their captain was more than enough impetus to get going.

Lightning idly flipped open her file, browsing across a sea of unfamiliar fae terminology, with essentially no leads to go off of.

She left the conference room last, just behind her partner.

It looked like they had their work cut out for them

* * *

 

Lightning held back the deep sigh in her chest.  If there was anything she had learned over the course of the past hour or two, it was that she knew essentially nothing about the fae oddities, particularly compared to everyone else in the SCS.  Her background was more than lacking—it was almost nonexistent, which was problematic for trying to trace down any fae criminal subgroups.

As such, she had found herself pouring over everything in their internal library from fae criminal records to fairy tales in order to better familiarize herself, and what she had gotten out of it proved to confuse her even more.

She had always known—but then again, nearly everyone did—that the fae were creatures of set rules.  They were all about protocol and decorum to a point of obsession-compulsion.  To be rude to a fae could mean to incite potentially lethal consequences.  For all of their pride, though, many fae loved to play games or riddles with outsiders.  By human standards, they were tricky to a point of extreme deception, though apparently if a fae thrice-swore anything, they were bound to keep their word.

Lightning looked over all of the notes she had taken down, a veritable labyrinth of customs and rules and patterns that governed entire races of oddities, most of whom lived in the Otherworld of the fae anyway—a separate but parallel dimension to their own, and one that few humans outside of wizards dared to traverse.

The entire background on fae was an entangled mess in Lightning’s mind, and her inability to make full sense of it frustrated her to no end.  Normally, at this point she would have gone to Kimahri for clarification; he was, after all, fae himself.  But Ashe and Kimahri had taken off some time earlier, looking for leads through Kimahri’s more official channels with fae, though even Lightning had the sense to realize that it would be a long shot for the ronso to come back with anything.

“Fang!  Farron!  With me, if you please.”

Lightning looked up to see Amodar approaching her desk, Rygdea following behind him.

“What’s up, Amodar?” Fang pulled back from her computer to get a better look at the senior-most field agent in the department.

“If you would, ladies, I would like both of you and Rydgea to accompany me out.”

Fang was already up and moving, so Lightning did the same, closing up what documents and she had open while Fang asked for more details.

“Got a lead?”

Amodar responded mildly. “Possibly.  Regardless, I would like the extra bodies with me.”

Lightning stopped at that. “Should we be packing anything extra?”

She received a firm shake of the head in response. “Nothing more than the usual.”

Lightning carefully checked her full magazine and tucked her Sig Sauer into her chest holster before throwing her jacket on and over it.  She was equally as curious as Fang as to where Amodar was taking them, but she supposed she would have to wait and see.

They walked outside to where a department sedan was already waiting for them.  Amodar pulled out the keys and hopped into the driver’s seat.

Fang took the front passenger seat, leaving Lightning to slide into the backseat alongside Rygdea.

“So where are we headed?” Rygdea quipped, clearly cued in no more than Lightning or Fang.

“Patience is a virtue,” chided Amodar, though even Lightning was able to catch a glimpse of a smile on his face through the rearview mirror.

Rygdea rolled his eyes and fell back into seat, giving a perfect impression of a child upset with being left out of some bigger secret.

Fang made a derisive sound of dismissal. “Fine, fine...be that way.  Have you managed to make any headway?”

Amodar shook his head. “Not yet, though hopefully I’ll get something after this.  Kimahri’s working the more diplomatic angle through his tribe, but I honestly don’t know how much that’s going to get us.  Fae can be damned hard to track down.  They’re masters of not leaving trails, and we need to get on to finding Cid and whatever form he’s in as soon as we can.”

It was an uncomfortable reminder that the clock was ticking, for them and for Cid.  Though, thinking on those lines brought up an issue that had been nagging Lightning since the earlier debriefing, and she decided to finally bring it up.

“So...hold on a moment.  There’s something I still don’t understand.  Isn’t Cid a fae spirit?  Why would he get kidnapped by his own?”

Fang snorted loudly from the front seat. “He’s hardly in high standing among the fae, from what I get.  The SCS gives him protection and immunity.”

_What?_

“What Fang said is correct.” Amodar explained, catching Lightning’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Cid is under the protection of the SCS...or more precisely, Jihl.”

The image of Jihl, wreathed in smoke, her eyes more like narrow slits as her shadow moved behind her, jumped to the forefront of Lightning’s mind, and she wondered yet again...just what _was_ their captain?  To have clout both among humans and oddities was no small accomplishment.  But judging by the tight look on Amodar’s face, that was a question for another time.  So she asked the next logical thing.

“But why does he even need that protection?  Is he witness, or...a criminal...”

Amodar waved down her question. “No, no...not quite like that.  I don’t know all of the details myself, but suffice to put it this way: you know that Cid is a very old spirit, far older than any of us.”

“Right,” interjected Rygdea. “He’s a fae spirit of wind and memory...or knowledge or whatever.  Not surprising that he’s got some serious age packed on him.”

Amodar nodded. “So think about it this way.  He’s an ages old spirit, whose very nature is to collect and store information, both of fae and oddity...as much information as he can, with no regard for how restricted or secret that information is supposed to be.”

He paused, obviously to let the implication of his words sink in, before spelling it out. “And you can imagine that after a few thousands years that’s led to more than a fair share or fae who would like him him as nothing less than dead.  His knowledge—his very existence—is a threat to them.”

Well, _shit_.

“And just who constitutes “them”, Amodar?  How bad is this potentially?”

Amodar wouldn’t look directly at any of them, and he breathed a few times before begrudgingly answering. “...the faerie queens...”

“The bloody _faerie queens!?_ ”

It was the closest to a shriek that Lightning had ever heard from Fang, but there was no time to even think about making fun of her for it.  Even Lightning was not so sheltered as to be confused about who the faerie queens were.  The respective queens of the seasons and the fae were oddities that went far beyond superhuman power.  They existed in the realm of the fae and outside of the jurisdiction of the police or of even the army, not that humans presented much of a threat to them.  From what Lightning understood, the faerie queens were so strong that they need not fear _any_ human.  If that’s where Cid had been whisked off to...

“Easy!” commanded Amodar. “That’s a worse case scenario, and there’s nothing to indicate that they were behind this.  In fact, they shouldn’t be.  They have far more important duties in the fae world, not to mention that they would never command any actions that would directly trespass on our grounds, particularly for something as trivial as kidnapping a spirit.”

He sighed and rubbed his chin with one hand. “No, this stinks of something less obvious...and more local.”

The conversation quieted on that note, and Lightning found herself looking back out of her window and at their new surroundings.

They were downtown in the Financial District, an area that a group like the SCS would never be normally seen in.  There was little street crime here during the daylight hours, no violent muggings or thefts.  The people walking the along the sidewalks of the towering office buildings here were bankers and investors, businessmen and white-collar workers.  To not wear a suit was stand out among them.

They slowed, coming to a full stop outside of a building that was noticeable even in the wealth of this area.

It was an old building, with a classical-styled marble façade, originally built during the skyscraper boom many generations before.  Though it was no skyscraper itself, the ten-story building glittered and gleamed just as brightly as its glass-tower counterparts.  Built originally as a banking complex when the Nautilus industry boom had first hit over a century ago, it had long since lost it’s use as a bank, but only a few years prior the piece of prime real estate had been bought out and completely renovated, resulting in the perfectly manicured site for the “Independent Lenders” group that now used the building.

Yet the building was far more than what it seemed at first glance.

It was also the ruling seat of the highest powered mafioso that Nautilus had seen in many decades.

Yojimbo was the head of the nameless underworld crime scene in Nautilus City, and despite his sizeable control over drugs, gambling, fencing, and all manner criminal activities in the city, Lightning knew that he liked to style himself as somewhat as a gentleman, and his lavish headquarters right in the heart of the Financial District proudly proclaimed as much.  There was not a single passerby on the street who didn’t recognize the “Independent Lenders” building for what it truly was.

The main question now was, just what were they doing here?

Amodar craned around to get a better look of the backseat, or, more specifically, of their squad sniper. “Rygdea, we need some eyes on this.”

“Got it, boss.” Rygdea flashed a sloppy two-fingered salute, grinning. “Should be some good tailwinds to catch with all of these big buildings here.”

Lightning had only a moment to ponder what that meant, and then she felt a light wind brush against her skin, even though they were inside the car, and her nostrils suddenly filled with the dry smell of the desert before a storm. 

She blinked her eyes, and where Rygdea had been a moment earlier, a red-tailed hawk now sat.  Its head was quirked and its dark eyes were curiously intelligent.  What Amodar said now clicked together in her head.

“Farron?  If you would?” Amodar was already exiting from the driver’s seat, and Fang was doing the same from the front passenger seat.

Lightning scrambled to out, holding the door open after her as politely as she could.

The hawk—Rygdea—waddled out and hopped down onto the sidewalk, earning them more than few strange looks from other pedestrians.  Rygdea stretched open his wings, revealing feathers that were the color of a desert sunrise, and then he took off with a screech, flapping upward.

His colored tail flashed in the sunlight, a deeper and richer red than in any hawk she had laid eyes on before.

The momentary wonder that had filled Lightning as she watched was quickly doused when Amodar urged them onward, locking the car behind them.  She recalled where they were heading, and felt the rush of adrenaline surge through her veins yet again.  Why had Amodar brought them here?  There was no way they were about to do what she thought.

“Amodar, what are we doing—”

He rounded on both her and Fang, his features now serious and brooking no argument. “You two follow my lead on this, you understand?  I’ll handle the talking.  Just keep to me.”

Lightning looked toward Fang, but her partner was already in the midst of giving a casual nod, seeming utterly relaxed and at ease.  Left with little else to do or say, Lightning gave a nod back to Amodar as well, even though she felt her lips thinning as they forcefully pressed together.

They walked up the marble-cut stairs, past the two stone lion dog statues that flanked the entrance, and into the main lobby of the building.

It was open and sprawling, with glistening marble floors and walls, coffered ceilings, and gilded elevator doors in the back.  There were also personal security guards at nearly every doorway, with stern and suspicious faces, eyeing over the three of them as they entered and walked toward the main reception desk.

A single secretary was at work there. She finished a phone call just as they approached, a pleasant but business-like smile plastering over her pretty face.

“Hello.  How may I help you today?” The line sounded as rehearsed and automatic as a machine recording.

“I’m here to see your boss.”

“To see whom, exactly?” asked the secretary, looking genuinely confused as she reached for the phone.

Amodar cleared his throat and gently repeated himself. “Your _boss_.”

The woman stopped, and looked at all three of them for a long second before responding.

“I’m sorry, sir, but unless you have an appointment...”

Amodar cut her off politely but firmly. “Tell your boss that he has visitors from the SCS looking to speak with him.  And now, if you will.”

The secretary nodded slowly, her brow now wrinkled and pressed together in consternation.

Lightning shifted slightly, and felt more than saw Fang do the same.  What Amodar had said had not gone unheeded nor unnoticed beyond the secretary, and Lightning could see the security guards as well as other nameless individuals in the lobby turning their attention on them.

Amodar, however, seemed completely unaffected by the uneasy change in atmosphere, and nodded when a moment later the secretary set down her phone and told them to take the lobby elevator up to the fifth floor.

They walked without incident into the gilded elevator, though the back of Lightning’s head crawled with the feeling of eyes watching her.

The bellboy—who undoubtedly had his own concealed weapon for all that he smiled—seemed to already know where they were going, and hit the button for the restricted tenth floor, not bothering to talk or make small pleasantries as they shot upward.

When the elevator dinged open, they were presented directly into an anteroom of sorts, with lavish carpets and leather furniture, as well as metal detectors, fairy wands, and a slew of other objects that indicated the true purpose for the room, just in case the group of heavily muscled bodyguards did not.

Lightning tensed as the men began moving toward them, but then everyone stopped simultaneously.  A voice echoed from beyond them, a pleasantly deep and lilting tenor. “Enough of the theatrics, please.  Go ahead and show my honored guests in.”

Lightning clenched her jaw at the belittling way “honored” was said, but obediently followed alongside Amodar and Fang, though she took the opportunity to shoot a glare at one of the nameless goons who had been about to search her.

They moved through the screen door, and into a completely different room.

Their new location was strikingly spartan in decoration considering the excess demonstrated in the rest of the building, but what little there was in this room gave clear indication as to the wealth and thought behind it.  The walls were a perfect and professional white, reflecting off of the polished granite floor tiles.  It was a spacious office, with an expansive and beautiful golden oak desk, but no chairs save the large, red leather one that was already occupied behind the desk.

Most prominent of all, though, was the set of items covering the back wall. 

Lightning recognized a set of two curved swords, the kind that the far eastern knights of ancient times would carry.  Pinned to the wall above the immaculately cared for weapons was an oni mask, all manner of reds and whites and yellows, looking fearsome and horrific even when just on display.

It wasn’t even a question in her mind as to whether or not the items were antiques or replicas.  Lightning knew that Yojimbo would never settle for anything less than the true, priceless originals, and he prided himself on it.

Yojimbo was a mobster of self-styled class, and it was on him, sitting comfortably in his high-backed, leather chair, that Lightning’s attention was focused upon.  Though his slick ponytail of dark, almost seaweed colored hair was beginning to gray, he was as trim and fit as any of his younger hitmen.  The pinstripe gray suit he wore was impeccably cut and custom tailored, complete with twinkling gold cufflinks and a bright red pocket square to match his equally crimson tie.  Every last article he wore, right down to the solid gold watch, was a carefully selected piece, designed to enhance the air of sophistication and refinement that he always strove to give off.

And it almost worked, were it not for his face.

Every time Lightning looked upon the unbearably cold and calculating blue eyes, it ruined the image he tried to create.  They were not the eyes of a financialist or businessman, no matter how greedy even those men could be.  These were the eyes of a tried and true killer, of a man who willingly paved his way to the top with the blood of others.

No, it didn’t matter how many thousand-dollar suits and priceless artifacts Yojimbo surrounded himself with.  At the end of the day, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and not even an entire lifetime of building himself as something else would ever change that.

“Yojimbo, I see you have a foo dog now, and a genuine one at that,” began Amodar, sounding cool and conversational.

There was movement around the corner of the desk, and Lightning saw the creature in question.  To call it a dog seemed an exaggeration.  The animal was easily the size of a small bear, and looked more like a cross between a wolfhound and a lion, exactly like the statues that safeguarded the entrance to the building itself.  That alone indicated exactly what Amodar had commented on; this wasn’t a simple guard dog, but a genuine lion foo dog, an oddity whose bloodline came from centuries of safeguarding temples and palaces.  That dog alone was a more worthy bodyguard than all of Yojimbo’s human minions in the room.

“Ah, yes, Daigoro.” The foo dog looked back at his master upon hearing his name. “You did not have the pleasure of meeting him before did you, Amodar?”

“He’s an interesting addition to your entourage,” commented Amodar dryly, making a point of glancing over the five bodyguards in the room.

Yojimbo let out a short laugh of amusement. “And you are one to talk.  Your department always was one for a show of force, and yet again you show yourself to be no different, bringing along your armed lackeys, for all that you claim to desire a simple audience.  What oddities truly lay beneath their skins, hmm?”

His eyes looked beyond Amodar, first running a critical glance over Fang before moving onto Lightning.  Yojimbo shifted and leaned forward, his dark eyes alighting as soon as his gaze intersected with Lightning’s.

His gaze caught and held hers, and she felt the tenuous reign on her emotions begin to erode.  Her nails, short-cut thought they were, bit into her palms as deeply as they could press; her weight shifted onto the balls of her feet, and her muscles shook the tiniest fraction as they tensed and contracted.

“...is going on? Light?”

Fang’s voice might as well have been a distant echo in her ears.  Her every nerve was focused on the man in front of her.

For all of their dark heat, Yojimbo’s black eyes were chill as he smiled. “Claire Farron.”

Her blood began to boil.

“Well, well, well.  I admit that I did not expect to be seeing your face again so soon after the Corvitus case.  I’m glad to see that you’re well, even after your transfer out of Homicide.  Funny how the department managed to do what I wanted even long after I’d given up hope of persuading them.”

“Bastard.”

Fang sucked in a breath next to her, whispering urgently. “Light...calm down...no need to—”

“Now, now,” Yojimbo spoke. “No need to be so hostile, Ms. Farron.  We are not enemies, contrary to what you always seem to presume.  I try do the same as you—to provide order to this city.  I simply do it by organizing the underworld, preventing the streets from being torn up by gang wars and factions.  I help to bring order to this city no differently than you.  There is no need to make things so black and white all of the time.  We can be cordial and polite to one another, now can’t we?”

“Scum like you don’t deserve manners, Yojimbo.” She spat out the words. “You’re nothing but a glorified thug and a persistent misery on this city, no better than the hitmen, drug dealers, and criminals that you employ, and I look forward to the day you’re finally taken in with chains.”

She was only vaguely aware of how, next to her, Fang immediately planted the palm of her hand to her forehead in defeated exasperation.  Her attention was focused solely on the kingpin in front of her instead.

At her words, Yojimbo stiffened, and his face paled with anger while any trace of warmth evaporated from his eyes. “And you would do well to remember where you are.”

The lion dog at his feet stepped forward and growled threateningly, while his bodyguards all shifted, moving their hands closer to their weapons.

“Enough, please,” said Amodar, sounding more tired than concerned.  Surprisingly, Yojimbo paused, and then leaned back into his chair, at which point his men all relaxed, and his dog sat back on it’s haunches, looking content and disinterested again.

Amodar turned toward Lightning then. “Farron...”

He didn’t need to finish for her to hear the unspoken and wearied command.

 _Keep it under control_.

Her hands flexed tighter for a brief second, and then she slowly began to unclench them, forcing her reluctant fingers to unbind.  Amodar was her superior here, and she needed to follow his orders.

This wasn’t Homicide in here.  Not this time.  It was SCS, and they were here for a different reason.

“We’re here on business, Yojimbo.  Nothing that you need worry about, unless your hand was in it.” Amodar folded his arms, looking surprisingly intimidating for a moment. “We’re looking for information.”

Yojimbo’s blue eyes grew bright with intrigue.  He leaned forward over his desk, steepling his fingers together. “Information.  You know my policy.  Everything has a price.  Nothing comes for free.”

Amodar nodded, unsurprised. “Information for information.  You’ll get your fair transaction from us, deal?”

Lightning internally fumed, and the fists that she had been trying so hard to keep relaxed and loose clenched a second time.  There was a soft cough next to her, and then Fang “accidentally’ bumped her with an errant elbow. 

She ground her molars against one another, and stared at the floor rather than at her superior.  How could they be doing this?  Dealing with this criminal mastermind of Nautilus...it made her want to scream in frustration.  She heard Yojimbo’s response float over the stone floor.

“Good.” He was leaning back, as if disinterested, though his eyes remained alight with interest. “Now what is that you’re looking for?”

“As I said, information.  Early this morning, the Special Cases Squad Headquarters building was broken into.  The perpetrators bypassed our security systems and stole something of great value to us.” Amodar spared a cool glance at the crimelord. “...though I’m sure you already knew most of that.”

Yojimbo nodded lightly, and the slightest of smirks tugged at his lips to confirm the truth of it.  It was a given fact that he had eyes and ears everywhere, even within the PD.  There was little that occurred within the city without Yojimbo at least knowing _of_ it.  More than getting to the top of the underworld, you didn’t remain there as Yojimbo had thus far without good watchdogs in place.

“We have good reason to believe that the nature of the kidnappers is fae.  What I want to know is who or where they are now, and I’m thinking that you can help me.”

When the bodyguards shifted at the unspoken accusation, Amodar waved them down, clarifying himself while never breaking eye contact with their boss.

“I’m hardly suggesting it was you, Yojimbo.  You’re far too smart a man to jeopardize all of what you’ve gained by getting on the wrong side of our captain.” Lightning noted with interest at how Yojimbo, hardly one to ever show nerves or fear, paled ever so slightly at the suggestion. “But if it was one of your subordinates or branches acting on their own, then I would like to know.  It’ll save me the effort of tearing apart the underworld looking for leads on my own.”

What Yojimbo thought of that, if anything, was unclear.

It had become an accepted fact within the past year or two that Yojimbo had consolidated and otherwise become the sovereign lord of organized crime in the city, but that was only on the human front.  The underworld of oddities and oddity related crime was an entirely different beast, and as far as Lightning knew, never in the history of Nautilus had there been a city-wide crime boss for oddity activity.  While there was certainly the periodic prominent figure that would showcase, oddity crime had typically been divided between different oddity types. 

That tradition, however, was one that did not seem to be holding Yojimbo back, and Lightning realized the truth of what rumors she had been hearing.  Yojimbo was beginning to move into the oddity sector, looking to expand his already sizeable control on the city.

Fang gave her another, sharper, elbow as the breath hissed between her teeth.

_Under control.  Keep in under control._

She looked out the window in order to look away, and caught a glance of brick red feathers, and a hawk floating in the sky.

Her breath slowly came easier.

_That’s right...Rygdea’s out there._

She was no more happy or content than when they had first stepped foot into the office, but she felt somehow more reassured.  She didn’t like what they were doing, even if it made sense in the greater scheme of things.  But seeing Rygdea was a reminder to have some trust in Amodar, and in her squadmates.

She looked sideways at Fang.

She couldn’t believe that Fang would deliberately lead her astray either.  They were partners, after all, and partners looked out for each other.

Fang caught her glance, and Lightning nodded slightly.  She was okay now; she had it under control.

While she had been mentally collecting herself, Yojimbo had been on the phone, and only just now was he ending the call, his eyes revealing nothing.  The phone struck against the receiver with a heavy and finite clunk. 

“It appears,” began Yojimbo. “That there are rats in the streets, and it sounds like there’s a nest in the Ward District.”

He rattled off an address for them.

“I’ve been informed that this nest might be of particular interest to the SCS, though I have little information beyond that.  Doubtless, I’ll be looking into the matter of such nests like these later, but for now, there is your lead.”

Their squad leader bowed his head, already tucking away a piece of paper with the address copied down on it.

“Now.  Equal exchange.  What do you have for me?”

In response, Amodar fished into one of his pockets, dug out a bright gold coin.

Yojimbo frowned, and began to speak out until Amodar cut him off.

“Patience.  What the name of your muscle-head over hear?  Ah, not to matter.  He’ll probably be replaced soon enough.” Amodar shrugged. “Muscle-head.  Play a game of heads and tails with me, will you?”

When Yojimbo nodded once to give his permission, the thug frowned but called out “heads” as Amodar flipped the coin.

_Dear Etro...he even sounds as stupid as he looks._

The coin was tails.

“Again,” commanded Amodar.

“Heads.”

It landed on tails.

“Again.”

They repeated at least five more times, and every time the coin landed on the opposite of what the bodyguard called.  All the while, Yojimbo’s frown grew.

“Just what are you playing at?” he questioned, when at last Amodar stopped.

“It’s a leprechaun’s coin.  Whatever the owner wants it to land on, it will.” Amodar tossed the coin toward Yojimbo, and his closest bodyguard snatched it easily out of the air. “You might want to check in on any gambling operations you’re running—word is that these are just starting to enter the Nautilus market.”

Amodar flashed a brief smile at the crime lord and then signalled to Lightning and Fang.  Lightning dared one more tight-lipped glare at Yojimbo before following her squad leader back out of the office.  Their ride down the elevator and through the lobby was silent, and no one challenged them or addressed them, except for the lobby secretary, who pleasantly wished them all a good day.

It wasn’t until they were nearly back into the car that one of them finally spoke, but it wasn’t concerning their new information.

“What was that back there, Light?” demanded Fang, though her voice was more concerned than harsh. “Between you and Yojimbo?  Just what the bloody heck was that.”

Lightning looked up, saw that both Amodar and Fang had stopped, their eyes even and measuring as they waited for her to answer.  She might not want to talk about it, but she owed both her superior and her partner more than that, and she knew it.

“Yojimbo and I are...acquainted with one another.” She inhaled deeply. “I was one of the main officers on the Corvitus case that almost nailed him last year.”

Amodar whistled loudly at that, looking impressed. “ _You_ were on that case, Farron?  I had no idea.  I didn’t hear much on it—was deep in a case myself at the time.  The only word I got down the grapevine was that something had gone really sour.”

Sour was an understatement, and she felt the old anger surge back up through her.

“We were so close, dammit!” Her fist struck against her thigh, hard enough to make the muscle tingle. “My partner and I were literally about to go up and cuff him when we get the call from our ADA that we no longer had a case—two of our key witnesses had suddenly gone missing, and the third had been found with a bullet through his brain.”

Even now, she could feel the overwhelming and residual frustration.  How many murders had she investigated that were because of Yojimbo?  How much crime had she tried to tackle because of this one mob boss.  They’d _had_ him.  For nearly a year she had worked day and night to make the case.  He had been cornered and they’d had him.

And then the rug had been pulled from under their feet and their case was gone into the wind, and Yojimbo had calmly continued to built his dirty empire right under their noses.

Lightning had put so much time and effort into the case, had been put on it in large part because of the trust the captain of Homicide had in her as a dedicated and clean cop, and it had all been for naught.

A hand on her shoulder brought her bitter reminiscing back to the present.  Fang’s hand was strong and reassuring.

She took a deep breath. “He just...knows me.  And he gets to me.” Which was something that she needed to work on. “What I said to him, though, I mean it.”

Fang cuffed her lightly, smiling and clearly trying to get her spirits back up. “And it’s true.  He’s no different than any of his henchmen.”

“He’ll get what’s coming to him someday, Farron,” said Amodar.  His voice sounded not of reassurance, but of old and knowing certainty. “They always do.  Now come on, Rygdea’s already headed back toward HQ.  We need to go back and update the captain and lieutenant on what we’ve got.”

* * *

 

Night was falling, and the horizon line was painter’s dream of mixed violets and oranges.  This evening found Lightning standing next to her squadmates outside of their armored transport van, in full S.W.A.T. gear but for the helmet visor that she kept steadfastly flipped up for as long as she still could.

Both she and her squadmates were all huddled around the holomap, looking at the same house blueprints that they had examined only a scant hour earlier.  They were in a poor area on the outskirts of town, known more prominently for being an illegal drug lab production center.  The address that Yojimbo had given them was an old and abandoned house that, like many of the others, was marked for demolition but still inhabited by squatters—and hopefully their perps.

The house itself was hidden just around the block, with boarded up windows and no clear sign of life, though that meant little.

“...upper levels aren’t structurally sound, which means that they are inhabiting either the ground level or the basement.” Yaag pointed to the different levels on the blueprint, going back over the information that they had already covered in their earlier op meeting.

This op was going to be a sting, dirty, quick, and to the point, except their guns were loaded with rubber bullets instead of the usual full-metal jackets; they couldn’t risk offing the perps, not when they might need answers afterward.

“Kimahri and Ashe, you take the front.  Amodar, cover their entrance.  Fang and Lightning, you go in through the rear.” He pressed his microphone closer to his mouth. “Rygdea, you watch the exits.”

The sniper’s voice echoed through all of their earpieces; he was somewhere on one of the surrounding rooftops, his gun already assembled and ready for lethal use, if necessary. “ _Roger that._ ”

Yaag nodded sharply once, more to himself than anyone else. “Alright.  Move out.”

Ashe, Kimahri, and Amodar only had to go around the corner to reach the front of the decrepit house, but Lightning and Fang needed to take back routes in order to reach the rear of the building.

Lightning took the lead, moving as quietly as she could while they approached around the rear of the house, cutting silently through other backyards to hide their progression.  Fang followed on her tail until they reached their destination.

The windows along the back of house were equally as boarded up as the front, leaving them with only one option.  Lightning took her spot crouching on one side of the closed door, while Fang took the other, both of them flipping down the visors on their helmets as they prepared for the op.

Rygdea’s voice confirmed their position to the rest of the squad. _“Farron and Fang are set in the back, boss._ ”

 _“Roger that.”_ Yaag’s voice was crisp and even. “ _Prepare to commence Operation Take-Back..._ ”

Fang moved to stand a few paces back from the door, lined up and ready.

“ _...in...3...2...1...go!_ ”

They heard the resounding boom as the front door was driven open under either Kimahri or Ashe’s frontal assault, and Fang echoed it as she blasted open the back door under the brunt of her kick.

Lightning entered first, clearing the corners as Fang came in after her.  They were in a dark an unused kitchen, with no sign.

They checked the corners, the broom closet, shining the lights mounted atop their gun barrels at all of the dark shadows of the room.

“Kitchen is cleared!”

Fang call out the clear, and it echoed through the comm. link.  A moment later, they heard from the front end of the house.

_“Foyer and front room clear.”_

They continued quickly clearing the first floor, finding no sign of life.  At last they congregated by the locked and heavy door that led down to the basement.

Lightning stood back, waiting until Amodar gave the signal and Kimahri broke the door down.  Then she was moving down the stairs, in a single file with Ashe and Fang ahead of her, and Amodar and Kimahri just behind. 

As they reached the basement level, they were greeted to the sounds of panicked screams and rustled movement.  Their flashlights illuminated a chaotic scene of bodies trying to dive out of the way, and of a large a complex sigil drawn onto the concrete floor in chalk.

“Nautilus SCS!  Freeze!  Freeze now or we will shoot!”

“It’s a portal!  Close it off now before anyone can open it!” yelled Amodar, pointing with one hand toward the chalk signs on the floor

Ashe dragged her boot through the chalk sigil, ruining the carefully laid signs and disrupting any possibility of their suspects opening a transdimensional escape route.  Lightning saw Ashe then retrain her gun on the suspects in front of them, but there was no need.

All of them were cowering under the harsh flashlights and the pointed guns.

“Don’t shoot!  For the love Mwyn, please don’t shoot us!”

Lightning couldn’t tell from whom the voice was coming from, but she kept her aim steady, waiting for orders from Amodar.

“Hands above your heads!  Kneel down and hands above your heads now!”

They complied immediately, and while Lightning kept her gun perfectly trained along with Amodar and Ashe, Kimahri and Fang moved into to begin systematically restraining and searching the oddities before them.

All in all, they led three halflings, two changelings, and one undersized kappa out of the basement and onto the pavement where Yaag now waited with police reinforcements to process the captives. 

As the PD took over the two perps she had guarded out from the basement, Lightning had to shake her head even as she removed her restrictive helmet.  _These_ were the oddities that had broken into HQ?

Shaking her head to herself one last time, she scanned the cordoned off street, before finally determining where her partner had gone off to.

Fang had already quickly removed multiple layers of her riot assault gear, and was leaning against the side of their armored van as she drank heavily from a water bottle and talked with Amodar.

Lightning followed suit, quickly taking off her kevlar vest and undoing the high collar on her assault jacket, allowing the sweat to freely dribble down her neck as the evening air cooled her heated skin.  She was still wiping back her soaked bangs from her forehead when she made it over to the van.

Fang nodded in greeting before throwing a filled water bottle to her.  Lightning caught it in the air, and began draining the deliciously cool liquid while her two squadmates continued talking.

“...still impressed that this was the crew that managed to disable our building defenses.  No small feat.”

“Well, it all makes sense now about how they managed to bypass most of our security barriers.  Jihl’s gonna be pissed that the wizards looked over this detail...” Amodar shook his head, looking disgusted.

Lightning, however, was still at a loss. “What do you mean?”

Amodar nodded his head at their frightened captives, huddled about twenty feet away with a small platoon of cops surrounding them. “Look at them.  These are changelings and halflings...oddities that are neither fully fae nor fully human, but caught on the knife edge between the two.  They’re outcasts and rejects, and hardly any threat compared to a true fae.”

“Which is how they got around the oddity defenses the wizards installed at HQ,” finished Fang, her eyes unusually hard and unforgiving. “The wizards installed their defenses specifically to target full blown oddities, and left human defenses to the normal security.  They didn’t think about the fact that with talented hacker skills or a bit of magical backup, creatures as weak and forgettable as halflings and changelings would fly under the radar of the defense system.”

But that was exactly what had occurred, and now Cid was paying the price for it.  Lightning remembered how angry Jihl had been only that morning.  Wizards might be powerful, but she couldn’t imagine anyone who wanted to be on the receiving end of their captain’s wrath.

“I tell you what, though,” said Fang, her lips pursed. “I don’t buy for a second that this band of misfits masterminded everything.  They’re tools, you mark my words.  Someone else is pulling the strings.”

And looking at the oddities, Lightning had to agree.  She just couldn’t believe that these fae acted out on their own.  Not that it mattered.  At the end of the day, they were still yet to find Cid.

“So what now...” Lightning quickly fell silent, her attention, and that of her comrades, drawn toward their lieutenant, who had finished speaking with the police captain.

Yaag stormed up to the group of prisoners, and, without even the slightest pause, pushed through the police guard to grab the closest halfling and haul him into the air by only his collar.  The halfling appeared to be a young man, barely out of his teenage years, with a thin and gangly frame that was punctuated by the thick-rimmed glasses he wore.

His appearance and seeming youth mattered little to the lieutenant, though.

“Where is he?” roared Yaag, his face pale with anger.

Even from their distance, Lightning took a step back.  Never had she seen Yaag like this before.  Irritated, annoyed, upset...yes.  But he was more than angry; he was enraged, if not without reason.

“I...I...we were told...” The halfling’s eyes were wide, and Lightning could see the fear clearly written all over his features.  However, the lieutenant gave him no reprieve.

“You trespassed into our department, and kidnapped one of our comrades,” Yaag hissed at the young man, pulling his face even closer. “You had better believe that as the lieutenant of a paramilitary organization I will do everything in my power to make you beg for mercy unless I start getting answers from you.  Now.”

The young man quailed beneath Yaag’s burning gaze, and something in him seemed to fracture and break. “We don’t have the spirit!  I swear!  You can check through the entire house.  We handed him off to a group of kappas and brownies.  Something about a death auction being held tomorrow afternoon.  I swear on whatever you ask that we don’t know anything more, honestly!”

Yaag’s face twisted into an ugly rictus of displeasure, and then he tossed the halfling roughly into the ground.  He spat into the pavement, and Lightning could see an artery ticking wildly at his temple as he turned toward her and the rest if the SCS. 

“Take these scum to Central for booking, and find out as much as you can.”

They began to move into action, moving to help the regular PD that was there with loading up the oddity criminals.  Yaag called out one more thing, though.

“Not you, Kimahri.  I need to you to dig.  I want a time and a place, and I want it before it happens.”

The ronso bowed his head. “I shall return to the tribe and search.  Expect me by morning.”

* * *

 

There really hadn’t been any need to get into work on time.  The email had gone out a bit before normal working hours, informing the squad to prepare for debriefing and an op in the late morning, and to do as they needed before then.  Yet Lightning was still in early as usual, but instead twiddling her thumbs as she waited impatiently for time to pass, and for once she was not alone in this.

Fang, for whatever reason, was also in, waiting just as impatiently for news while Kimahri, Jihl and Yaag talked behind closed doors.  There was only so much to busy themselves with in the meantime.

Lightning caught Fang glancing at the wall clock again, down toward her desk and then back up curiously at Lightning.

“You eat breakfast yet?” she asked suddenly.

Lightning thought of the meager yogurt she had polished away while leaving her apartment. “Not really.  What were you thinking?”

Lightning for one would not be averse to a long breakfast break while they idled away time, particularly if they were doing another op today.

Fang stretched and stood up, gesturing for her to do the same.

As Lightning followed her partner out of the SCS, Fang began to explain. “I know a place just a few blocks down.  Nice little diner—good food, good people, good price.”

The way they took down the streets was well-known to Light, but even as they approached the small diner on the corner she found herself holding her tongue, letting Fang continue to talk instead..

“I think you’re going to love this place, Lightning.  I’ve been coming here for years, pretty much since I moved to Nautilus and started working at the SCS.”

Fang held open the door for her, letting Lightning in first and then following second, but already calling out to the familiar viera waitress.

“Fran!  I wanted to introduce you to my partner—”

“Lightning!” said Fran. “It’s good to see you again.”

Lightning smiled back, pleased and quite certain that Fran’s smile had less to do with seeing Lightning again and more to do with the shell-shocked look on Fang’s face.

“Hello,” said Lightning. “It’s good to—”

“Is that Lightning _and_ Fang!  Haven’t seen either of those faces in a while, and now they’re back here and together, to boot!”

The chef of the establishment had craned his head around the corner of the kitchen, caring naught for the other customers as he yelled out.

Fran yelled back at him. “You can see with your own two eyes, Balthier!”

He smiled devilishly and tipped his head toward them all. “Welcome back, Fang!  Lightning!”

Then he returned to his stoves and counters while their viera hostess led them toward a small table for two, passing out the menus once they were seated.

“Coffee?”

“Black.” Fang and Lightning spoke simultaneously, and Lightning smiled back at Fang’s sheepish grin.

Fran’s lips twitched again. “Coming right up.”

Once she had walked away, Fang turned on Lightning.

“You never told me you were a regular here!” Her voice was only lightly accusatory, more dismayed and amused than upset. “And here I thought I had a surprise in store for you.”

Lightning had the grace to look appropriately abashed as she shrugged.  After all, she had deliberately not corrected her partner, instead waiting and letting Fran do that much...and the glitter in Fang’s bright green eyes said she recognized as much.

“Breakfast’s on me, then.  Can we call it even?”

Fang snorted as Fran brought fresh coffee back to them. “Fine.  But I eat a lot, so no complaining afterward.”

Lightning nodded and made a placating gesture with her hands while Fran went ahead and took their orders.

“Well...it looks like Kimahri must have returned with a lead,” said Fang conversationally after a cautious sip of the hot coffee, turning the subject back to other more pertinent things at hand.

Lightning nodded. “I’m sure that we’ll hear everything at the debriefing later.”

“Yeah, but the down time between the then and now is still annoying.”

Lightning shrugged, but then raised an eyebrow in question. “Why not stay in a bit longer instead of getting into work at the same time as me?”

“Bah,” Fang waved away the concern, then stopped as Fran came back over, two plates piled high with steaming breakfast items in her hands.

All conversation ceased for a few minutes as they both shamelessly began demolishing their food while it was still hot.  It was only when the majority of her breakfast was already in her stomach that Fang started to speak again.

“Eh,” she washed down a mouthful of eggs with a gulp of coffee. “Was already up with my sister, Vanille, so I thought I might as well come on in.  And look, we ending up getting breakfast out of it, so I’m not complaining.”

Fang took a healthy bite of toast before looking back up at Lightning.

“You have a sister, too, right?  Been getting dinner with her lately, as I recall.  She younger?  Older?”

For all that she and Fang had been working together as case partners for well over two months, they had surprisingly not asked about either’s personal lives or family until now, and Lightning supposed that it was only reasonable Fang was now inquiring, especially since Lightning had mentioned Serah in passing before.

“Younger,” she answered. “Just by three years.”

“You two close?”

The question was of innocent interest, but it struck a chord in Lightning, and she had to set her fork back down and look away.  This was not just a casual conversation topic for her, and partner or no, she really didn’t have any desire to discuss personal matters between her sister or Snow at the moment.

“Serah...it’s just, things aren’t the best between us right now,” confessed Lightning tightly.

She registered how Fang had now put her fork down as well, giving Lightning her full and undivided attention .

“I still live with my sister,” said Fang after a long moment, humming lowly. “We’re both grown women now, but, I don’t know...we just don’t seem ready to part yet.  We’ve been pretty close for a long while now.  Granted, we’ve had our fights, and sometimes we can both be nasty as hell to each other, but at the end of the day, she’s my family, you know?  We’ve both seen the best and the worst of each other, and she’s all I’ve got.”

Lightning nodded.  It was the same with her and Serah, even with how rocky things had been between them this past year.

A quick glance up, and she saw that Fang looked genuinely empathetic, neither judgemental nor pitying. “But sometimes, it’s definitely still rough, and some hurdles are hard to smooth over, yeah?”

Lightning nodded again and sighed, trying not to dwell too much on it, less her thoughts turn dour.

“I’m sure you two will get past...whatever’s going on.  If you care about each other half as much as what you seem to, it’s just a matter of time, Light.”

She heard the unspoken offer from Fang for her to speak more if she wanted, but thankfully her partner didn’t press the issue, letting her take solace in the tiny remainders of her coffee and eggs.  A tan hand overlapped hers for a moment.  Lightning noted the myriad of tiny white scars that decorated the knuckles, the well-groomed and trim nails, and the rough calluses that she felt from the palm that covered over her.  More than anything, though, she noticed the heat of Fang’s hand, radiative and encompassing, and a pleasant warmth against her own, cooler skin.  There was a squeeze of reassurance, and then Fang slowly withdrew her hand, tossing back the last dregs of her own coffee.

“Well, what say we finish up here and find out was Jihl has in store for our op today, huh?”

She grinned, and, almost against her will, Lightning found herself smiling back.

* * *

 

The Gran Park was one of the landmarks of Nautilus, a vast swathe of green that was located right next to central downtown.  It held an array of running and biking paths, multiple ponds, the city botanical and butterfly gardens, and, according to Kimahri’s sources in his ronso tribe, a covert fae transaction site, rumored to be in use at high noon today for a questionable auction and transfer of a wanted fae individual.

_Sounds like exactly what we’re looking for._

Of course, they couldn’t just shut down the entire park based on the word of a few oddities, so instead they were looking at what would be more of a stealth infiltration and rescue operation.

Lightning fought off the urge to fidget.  She felt naked without her gun, but their orders for the op had been more than clear: no iron.  Kimahri had stressed that the transaction site would likely be warded with illusions to throw off the wayward park-goer.   If they passed through the warding barriers with iron on them, it would undoubtedly be recognized by the fae there, potentially scaring away their targets before they could even lay eyes on Cid.

That being the case, here she was, wearing the “casual” civilian clothes of a v-necked shirt and baggy cargo pants, with the most unorthodox of weapons hidden away on her person.  She had one glassy obsidian dagger stowed away in a cargo pocket, while a second, larger one was strapped to the inside of her thigh.  To top it off, she had a slender, lead-cored baton hanging on the inside of her waistband, and it tapped uncomfortably against her leg if she wasn’t careful enough about how she moved.

It took effort to resist the urge to glare at Fang.  The woman looked perfectly comfortable in her jeans and black sleeveless shirt, both of them tight-fitting enough to indicate to Lightning that she had no such bizarre weapons awkwardly hidden away on her.  Indeed, when Lightning had asked what Fang was carrying, the damnable woman had the nerve to gloat as she flexed her bicep and proudly proclaimed that she was already armed enough.

“If you don’t watch it, your face is going to get stuck like that.”

Lightning’s glare only intensified at Fang’s deliberately teasing comment.

“You’re not the one with a stone dagger taped to your inner thigh!” she shot back.

“Easy there.” Fang skipped a stone on the water of the pond they were waiting by, her voice now more soothing than nettling. “It’s just a precaution, and hopefully one you won’t need.  Trust me, I’d prefer cold iron just as much as you.”

But there was nothing to be done about it.  It would at least be better if this damn op would finally start.

Fang had taken to feeding the ducks when they first arrived, but had quickly run out of bread.  Now she was lazily sitting on a bench overlooking the pond, watching as the ducks moved on to look for food elsewhere. 

Lightning couldn’t bring herself to relax so easily.

She had sat for a time, but ultimately stood again, crossing her arms and resisting the desire to pace as they waited for things to get going.  Waiting was always part of the game, but if their window of opportunity didn’t open soon, Lightning thought she might go mad.

She turned to watch the skies, trailing the red-tailed hawk that had been flying zig-zag patterns across the park for the past half-hour.

Rygdea had stopped that now, and was circling in the air just beyond the meadow hills.  He’d found it.

“Fang!”

There was no need for her to call out.  Her partner had already seen the signal, too, and was up on her feet. “Let’s move in.”

When they finally rounded over the last hill, they found the rest of their squad there—Ashe, Kimahri, and Amodar—waiting on them as they looked at sizeable wooded area of the park before them.

Looking directly at the line of trees, there was something off about it, and Lightning quickly figured out what.  It was as though she couldn’t keep her eyes on the trees.  Every time she tried to focus her gaze, it started sliding away to the side, and she found a mental desire to go elsewhere.

“The fae transaction is in there, for sure,” commented Amodar. “No doubt about it.  Let’s be on with this, then.”

The five of them moved forward, walking in pace with one another toward the trees.  The closer they got, the harder it became for Lightning to convince her mind that she wanted to go forward, and not to turn around.  She supposed that she felt the effects of the warding the strongest of their group, what with her being the only full human.  Even so, she continued moving her feet until they had reached the start of the enchanted woods.

She stepped under a few branches and past the first tree, and then abruptly had the unpleasant sensation of moving through a thick and heavy resistance.  She continued to push through it, and a moment later she was walking normally once again, her squadmates by her sides.

“Fae illusion walls...never my favorite barriers to pass through.”

That was Ashe, shaking her head briefly as if to throw off a shiver.

“Come,” said Kimahri. “Now that we have entered, the illusion spells themselves should guide us toward the gathering site.  Let us continue.”

They threaded through the heavy mess of leaves and low hanging branches, only the occasional stray beam of light able to break through the canopy and reach them in the middle of a wood that seemed far larger and older than the copse of trees they had first seen from afar.

Kimahri suddenly put up one blue hand, signalling them to halt.  He pointed directly ahead, toward where the trees thinned and then broke into a large and grassy clearing, open to the sunlight overhead.

Lightning could see movement, and began to distinguish all manner of fae oddities within the clearing.  There were kappas, brownies, nymphs, satyrs, and more that she she couldn’t even begin to guess at.

“That’s the gathering site.  That’s where the transaction for Cid will take place.”

“I don’t see Cid,” spoke Fang after staring for a while. “I don’t see any creature or object that looks like it’s possessed by him in there.”

“Neither do I,” said Amodar, sighing with regret. “Not to say that he isn’t possibly still hidden in there, but he’s likely being kept elsewhere in the woods.  Which means it’s time for plan B.”

He straightened and produced a small plastic bag from his coat pockets, inside of which was a set of plastic finger bones that Lightning knew had been taken from the skeleton mannequin back at HQ.  The bag was handed over to Fang brusquely before Amodar turned toward Lightning.

“You have the potion?”

She nodded.

“Good.  Ashe, Kimahri and I will continue into the main clearing, verify that Cid is not being held there, and provide a distraction for the fae to make sure your presence is not realized.  You know what to do: get Cid, and get out.  And do it as quickly as you can.  We’ll keep our eyes and ears open for you.  Good luck.”

Ashe inclined her head to them, while Kimarhi gave a fist over his heart, and then the three were moving away from them, toward the light of the faerie clearing and the fae gathering.

Left by themselves, Lightning turned toward her partner.  It was all on them now.

“You ready?” asked Fang, her eyes glinting with anticipation.

Lightning nodded back.  She was ready as she would ever be.  There was work to be done.

She reached in and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid from one of her cargo pockets, holding it up at eye level.  Lightning had been hoping that it wouldn’t come to the point of needing to use this, but it was necessary.  She popped off the cork and held it under her nose.  There was no distinguishable smell to her.

_So be it._

She took a brief swig of it, downing roughly half of the meager contents before handing it to Fang for her to finish.  The potion itself wasn’t terrible, but tasted strongly of rust and copper after she had swallowed it.  Fang was just tossing aside the empty vial when the effects fully struck her senses.

For a brief and surreal moment, she experienced an out of body sensation, and then suddenly she was back within herself, and _aware_.

Her mind now perceived the world around her in a manner that almost made her feel dull and stupid upon thinking back.  She could sense the illusions placed all about them, how the fae frequently used this miniature forest as a gathering place, harnessing the natural power within the trees and the earth here to shield the effects of their oddity natures from humans.  She could see how her mind had been befuddled by the illusions even after passing the initial barrier, confused by powers and deceptions it was not familiar with; but now she recognized them, and looking into Fang’s vibrantly green eyes, she saw that her partner recognized them, too.

Lightning nodded.  She was ready.

Fang pulled out the mannequin piece from the bag and pressed it to her nose, inhaling sharply while her eyes closed.  It only lasted for perhaps a few seconds, but Lightning could easily count her heartbeats in the space of it.

Then her eyes snapped back open, seeing something that Lightning, even with the potion, could not.

“Let’s go,” whispered Fang.

It sounded as loud as a shout to Lightning’s ears.

For all that they tore through the undergrowth, they moved lightly and silently, progressing in an unseen path that simply felt _right_ to her heightened senses, with Fang taking the lead.  Lightning had no idea how long they had been going for when they finally stopped, entering a small and mossy clearing with a collection of tree stumps around the edges.

“Thank whatever cosmic powers there are in the universe!  Never thought I’d live to see the day when I was so glad to see Fang’s face.”

The voice was faint, but unmistakably familiar, and Lightning had to look around for a bit before she located the source.

“Cid?”

“Yes, of course it’s me!  I’m surprised it took so long for the SCS to reach me.  I was started to get worried.”

Lightning bit down on her lip, trying very, very hard not to laugh.  Fang held no such reservations, though.

“You got yourself trapped in the body of a pixie, mate?!” She doubled over in raucous laughter while Cid folded his tiny arms and frowned at her.

At barely a foot tall, there was no mistaking what body Cid was currently inhabiting.  His pixie host was at least fairly good-looking, with skin that was as pale as ivory, and a mop of black hair on his doll-sized head.  The image was completed by the glittering, crystalline wings that sprouted from his back.

“Yes, yes.  It’s all very amusing, I know.” He tapped one tiny foot impatiently. “Now if you have time to cease and desist from your laughter, I would very much like to be a free spirit again, if you will.”

Fang wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes, and finally straightened. “What do you mean?  I don’t see any iron...?”

It was true.  There was no iron, no cage, no apparent restraints on him.  So what was holding him back?  All that seemed out of place was the circle of white mushrooms that grew around him.

“The mushrooms?” Lightning asked. “You mean that’s what’s keeping you here?”

“It’s a fairy ring,” explained Cid impatiently. “And considering that I am both fae in spirit and in body currently, I can hardly even dream of stepping or flying out of it.  I need one of you to break it for me.”

Lightning look at Fang, then back down at Cid. “So...what do we need to do?”

He pointed toward the toadstools. “One of you needs to dig out a mushroom, place a sprinkling of pixie dust on it, and then a drop of your blood on it.  Then eat it.  That should break the circle.”

Fang began trying to weasel her way out of it immediately. “Well, it should probably be a full human who...”

“Yeah right, Fang,” Lightning shot back. “If you were any less eligible than me than Cid would have said so.”

The taller woman squared her shoulders and huffed. “Ugh..fine.  Rock, paper, scissors?”

It seemed liked a childishly ludicrous way to solve the debate, but how else would they?  Toss a coin?  As she held out one fist against Fang’s, Lightning longingly wished that she had a leprechaun coin like Amodar.  _That_ would make her life a lot easier, even if it was underhanded.

“Alright.  _Rock, paper, scissors..._ ”

Lightning exhaled heavily through her nostrils, not bothering to hide her relief as her shoulders relaxed.  Her paper had won to Fang’s rock.

“Two out of three?” asked Fang, doing her best imitation of puppy eyes.

Lightning was unmoved, and after a moment Fang groaned, and her lips pursed together in a reticent pout. “Fine.  But if I get sick, it had better be your ass holding my hair back while I puke.”

Fang was still grumbling as she knelt down to select the smallest mushroom that she could find in the ring.  She stood again, reluctantly pulling a pinch of pixie dust from one of her pockets to sprinkle over it.  At this point, she heaved a sigh and proffered the toadstool to Lightning.

“Hold this for a sec, will you?”

Lightning accepted the mushroom tentatively.  She held it away from herself, waiting patiently while Fang bit down on one of her fingers just hard enough to break skin.  Fang slowly took the mushroom back, allowing a single droplet of blood to collect on her finger and then drip down to the top of the mushroom.

Lightning could see her her partner’s throat move as she swallowed.

“Well,” tempered Fang.  Her smile looked like more of a grimace. “Bottom’s up!”

Then the white fungus disappeared into Fang’s mouth.  Her face scrunched up as she chewed rapidly.  Then, at last, she swallowed again, sticking her tongue out and spitting afterward.

“There!  I’m done.  Did it work?”

The circle of mushrooms abruptly glowed white, and thin rays of light shot up vertically before dissipating away into tiny flickers.

“Excellent.” Cid sounded relieved.  He took one large step outside of the circle, as if to verify that it was truly broken, and then took to the air, his white wings moving too rapidly to be distinguished as more than a blur of motion.

“Unless there’s anything else you ladies needed...no?  Then I should like to get out of here.”

Lightning nodded in agreement. “Let’s go.”

They entered the forest, Fang once again taking the lead.  They had only just lost sight of the clearing where Cid had been held when Fang stopped.  She looked around and brow furrowed for second.  Then she began leading the way, but only for another minute.

When Fang stopped again, she looked look left and right, before turning back toward Lightning in askance for any direction she could provide.

Lightning looked around, felt confusion begin to cloud her mind.  Where exactly in the woods were they?  It had been so easy getting to Cid, so why were they having such difficulty navigating their way out?

“The potion...” she realized, and saw the same knowledge and resultant worry bloom to life on Fang’s face.

It had already run out, and without its help, their minds were yet again falling prey to the fae illusions that were interwoven with the trees.

“Cid!” snapped Fang, her voice more panicked than angry. “Can you lead us out of here?”

He looked away, appearing ashamed and uneasy. “Normally, yes.  But I was held here by the same bonds.  I’m unable to cut through them, not from within the woods themselves.”

Fang cursed under her breath. “Shit.”

Things were now officially getting messy.

“Okay, okay...wait.” There had to be a logical way around this, and Lightning was determined to find it. “The woods aren’t actually endless.  It’s just an illusion.  So we just need to pick a direction and keep walking.”

“Right...” Fang agreed somewhat shakily, so they took off toward their left, walking for at least a solid five minutes before she stopped them again, looking around hard.

“What is it?”

It took a moment before Lightning got a strained answer.

“We were here just before.  I’m sure of it.”

Looking at their surroundings, it did seem very familiar.  The fallen branch off to her right.  The decaying log about ten feet ahead...

What was going on?

Cid sighed, sounding bleakly resigned as he hovered between the two of them. “I’m afraid we’re caught in a—”

“Fae ring of illusion.”

The three of them turned around toward the feminine voice.  Lightning already had her arms up in a defensive stance, and was reassured to see Fang in similar form as they faced the creature before them.

It appeared to be a slender and beautiful woman, with long and unbound blonde hair that was dominated by bright streaks of green.  If there was any question about her relative humanity, it was quietly answered by the prominent goat hooves that peeked out from under the hem of her flowing dress.

She smiled, but her eyes were hard.

“I believe you have taken something, or _someone_ , that you ought not to have while you were sneaking around behind our backs.”

“And just who are you?” Fang asked belligerently.

Cid answered quietly behind them. “...she’s a glaistig, one of the Green Ladies.” 

The glaistig smiled at CId’s recognition of her. “You can call me Green Jean, or Jean, and I will ask you once and only once: return the prisoner now.”

Lightning bristled.  There was no way that they were doing that.  She had no idea if they stood a chance against Green Jean while here in her own fae environment, but they had to try.  The heavy tree boughs around them swayed and darkened, as if on the glaistig’s side and preparing to mount an offense.

“Peace!”

Kimahri’s voice cut through the air, and then trees around them wavered and faded, and Lightning found herself in the central clearing of the woods that she had gazed on before, Fang and Cid still next to her, but the rest of her SCS squadmates now also nearby, while a host of fae oddities gathered behind Green Jean and along the treeline.

How they were back in the clearing, Lightning would never know, but she quickly chalked it down to the fae illusions and focused back on the issue at hand.  They had been caught.

They had the their squadmates for backup of course, but Jean also had her fae assembling around her, and without their firearms or other normal weapons, they were at a disadvantage to the oddities.

“What ‘peace’ do you demand, ronso?” Jean snarled and swung an open hand toward Lightning and Fang, and Cid as he floated behind them. “You have trespassed on the trust of our gathering area, and taken that which does not belong to you from us.  How do you dare to ask for peace?”

Kimahri crossed his arms and puffed his broad chest outward.  In this moment, more than any other, he looked every bit the dangerous oddity that he was. “We have stolen nothing, only reclaimed that which is our own.  Cid is one of us, and was taken from within the confines of our hearth and home.  Does that mean nothing among the fae anymore outside of the ronso tribes?

Jean looked very nervous for a moment at the unspoken accusation that had been turned on her, but held her ground. “T-that may be the case, but we were not aware of such when the changeling and halfling abominations offered him to us in a sign of good will.  And agreements have already been proposed and promised on for the right to him!  You would have to treaty with the winning bidder.”

“What!?” Cid yelled.

Ashe was somewhat more tactful, if imposingly demanding. “And with whom is that?!

“With me!”

Officers and fae alike craned around to see who the newcomer was as he stepped out of the shadow of the trees and into the sunlight.

“...and now we’re in trouble...” murmured Cid from behind them, sounding fearfully subdued.

Lightning realized quickly that nearly every other fae in the gathering had fallen silent, most of them bowing their heads or dropping further back into the trees as the strange being stepped fully into the clearing.

“You humans might find my real name more than a bit hard to pronounce, so you can call me Cait Sith.  Maybe you’ve heard of me before?”

It took longer than what Lightning would have like to admit to determine the source of the voice.  The new oddity was a moogle—but not like the cute and fuzzy oddities that Lightning was accustomed to.  This one was a monstrosity by those standards, a massive and heavy creature with sagging pale skin and blank dark eyes that made it look more like a troll or an ogre.

The six-foot giant had not been the one to speak, though.  Rather, the tiny voice came from a black cat that sat almost comically atop the moogle’s head, wearing a red superhero cape with a small and dented golden crown on his head.  Were it not for Cid’s reaction, she probably would have laughed at the sight.

But she had heard the name of this oddity before, too.

Cait Sith, or Cat Sidhe, was a figure out of storybooks and fairy tales, a fae being of immense power that appeared in the human world as a cat, frequently playing tricks and pranks, but also punishing any of those who dared to insult him.

“I’m here to collect my prize!”

Cait Sith pointed with one shiny claw at Cid, and a moment later his pixie form vanished only to reappear in the iron grasp of one of the moogle’s club-like hands.

“Wait!”

“Hold up for a second!”

“Let’s talk about this!”

Cait Sith paused and quirked his head curiously to the side. “Now what’s wrong?”

“Cid’s not up for executioner’s auction,” argued Ashe. “He was wrongfully taken from our keeping.”

Amodar continued. “He is member of the Nautilus City Special Cases Squad, under the explicit protection of Jihl Nabaat and therefore under human jurisdiction and justice.

“What’s that?  You say he’s under human jurisdiction now?” The black cat gestured with one paw wildly and gave a feline grin. “Well, I only smell one human here.”

He looked directly at Lightning, and she felt her skin turn icy.

“And what of it?” she asked as gruffly as she could manage.

“Well, then any dispute over his protection and possession is between you and I!”

Multiple voices exploded into protest at that, but even Lightning could recognize that Cait Sith had found a valid point.  There were clear accords laid between the Otherworld filled with fae oddities and the normal human world.  If they tried to skew things too much to the point of violating one of the finer laws in the accords, the repercussions could end up being more far reaching than they could begin to guess.

Cait Sith silenced the voices of dissent with a loud yowl.

“How about this: we can settle it out in a game!  Just the human and I.  Winner takes all.”

“A...a game?” What was he going on about?

“A game, if you will...a contest.  And because you are the wronged party, I’ll even let you choose!” He held up three claws. “A contest of strength, of wit, or of wills?  Which would you have?”

Lightning internally balked, and immediately looked toward her squadmates for assistance.  Cid’s life was potentially on the line here.  Whatever she chose, she needed to win.

However, her squad knew it just as much as her, and they huddled together for a moment, trying to confer as Cait Sith patiently waited for an answer.

“A ‘contest’?  What does that even mean?” That was Fang, her eyes narrowed in skepticism.  Behind it, though, Lightning could now recognize the concern and fear directed toward Lightning’s own well-being. “What are we even getting into?  Or what are we getting Light into?  Can’t we do this some other way?”

“Kimarhi?” Amodar deferred to their resident fae oddity.

The ronso tried to explain, struggling to find words. “A contest of strength, wit, or will...these are the three traditional challenges one is offered when betting something with the fae.  The winner then claims the prize.  However, the nature of the contest itself is completely dependent on the fae offering the challenge, and I cannot speak for these tests may possibly hold.”

Ashe brought up a valid point. “Are we certain that we even want to do this?  To risk both Cid and potentially Lightning, as well?”

They all looked between Lightning and Amodar for askance, uncertain.  Lightning saw Amodar inhale deeply, but she spoke before he could. “And what other choice do we have?  If I forfeit, Cid goes beyond our help, maybe permanently.  I’m willing to do this.  Humans have won against fae plenty in the past.  I can do the same.”

She ended staring at Amodar, silently begging him to be on her side about this.  Besides, what she had said about Cid was right.  What other choice did they really have?

The senior agent sighed heavily, closing his eyes.  He knew what was at stake just as much as her. “Very well.  It’s your choice then, Farron.  I’ll respect it.”

Lightning nodded, and sized up the small cat briefly, considering the options given to her based off of what she had been told.

“I would highly advise you away from participating in a test of strength,” rumbled Kimahri, as if reading her thoughts.  His whiskers were still, and the brow over his golden eyes was pressed together in deep concern. “Do not be fooled by his appearance.  Cait Sith is one of the strongest fae in both the Seelie and Unseelie Courts.  It is no small feat for a fae to be recorded in human stories, and it always with good reason.”

 _That_ gave her pause.  So strength was out.  She pinched the bridge of her nose as she internally debated.  As for wit, her childhood stories rang out in remembered warning over the legendary cunning and shrewd sagacity of Cait Sith.  With both strength and wit out of the question, that left her with only one option.

“Will.” Her voice rang out surprisingly clear. “I choose a contest of wills.”

The fae creature gave off a loud and rumbling purr of pleasure. “Fantastic!”

The black cat that was Cait Sith then jumped off from his perch atop the giant moogle, landing expertly on his hind legs.  When off of its pet moogle, Cait Sith was much smaller, though he still stood at nearly three feet tall on his hind legs, larger than any normal household tabby cat.  He then began walking to the center of the grassy clearing, gesturing with a paw for Lightning to follow.  She did so, if a bit tentatively.  These were uncharted waters now, and she would not have her partner or her squadmates to back her in whatever was to occur next.

Cait Sith sat down on a relatively flat patch of ground, and indicated for her to sit across from him.  Lightning made herself as comfortable as she could, trying to ignore the way that both her squad and the other fae circled around them, all watching with varying degrees of curiosity.

“Don’t think I ever got your name, human!”

She cleared her throat to speak. “Lightning Farron.”

His whiskers twitched, and he let out a series of meowing laughs. “What a funny name for a human!”

As he laughed, he reached around and flourished his tiny red cape.  A moment later, and an object appeared in the two-foot space that separated them, laying on the grass.  Lightning studied it, unsure of what it was.  It was cubic, almost the exact shape and size of a rubix cube.  But unlike that simple toy, the material was completely continuous and smooth, with a black sheen that made it look like a stone.  If it truly was a stone, it was unlike any she had ever seen.

The nervousness jumped in her gut, and she felt a bead of sweat collect and drip down her temple.

Cait Sith’s slitted eyes were sparkling, but his words became formal and serious. “Lightning Farron, I challenge you to contest of will.  Let us begin.”

He placed one white-socked paw on the cube, clearly waiting for her to do the same.

Lightning reached out to touch the surface of the dark stone, and the world around her ceased to be.

* * *

She blinked, and her eyes watered at the light.

They were no longer in the Gran Park.  In fact, Lightning had no idea where they were.  Cait Sith stood across from her, now maybe twenty feet away, but there was nothing else besides him, no distinctive features of the landscape or flora.  Instead, all around was a plain and bright white.  It was above her, beneath her, blending the “ground” and “sky” together, and stretching as far as the eye could see.  Just what had that stone done?  Where was she now?

A polite meow reminded her that she had little time to let her thoughts wander.  She looked toward the fae oddity.  He gave his distinctive and happy feline smile, and his voice echoed inside her head, though his lips hadn’t moved.

_Let us begin._

Suddenly she was on her stomach, pressed flat against whatever floor there was by a force of gravity so immeasurable that she struggled to merely lift a finger against it.  And yet a quick glance showed that Cait Sith was immune to it, merely standing where he had been before.

_What...?_

She pressed and pressed against it, refusing to give in.  She didn’t know what was happening, but she would fight it.  As her rage grew, the pressure against her steadily lifted, and slowly she was able to stand, until she was upright and the gravity seemed to be restored to normal.  Lightning turned toward Cait Sith, and had to blink.

It was no longer a small talking cat before her, but a great kitsune, with a full set of nine waving tails, its paws each bigger than a dinner plate.  It gave a vicious and snarling grin, and then fire exploded outward, a burning conflagration that seared through the space between them and threatened to engulf her.

Lightning brought her arms up in an instinctive shield, and a great wall of earth materialized in front of her, protecting her from the flames.  However, the assault, rather than subsiding, only intensified.  The flames roared in the air around her, and the heat grew and grew until the earthen shield began to glow red and molten.

It distorted, and Lightning felt a flash of panic run through her mind as her defenses began to fail.

_Water!_

She envisioned the ocean, as vast and endless as the horizon, and her barrier of rock became a plane of water, neutralizing the onslaught of fire in hiss of steam.

The kitsune shifted again, fur flattening and smoothing into bare and slimy skin while the tails split and separated into long tentacles, all now reaching for her.

Lightning jumped backward, moving with a swiftness that she could never possess in the physical world.  Yet the kraken’s arms followed her and its great yellowed eyes watched all the while.

Unwilling to keep dancing away, Lightning stopped, balling herself up and calling to mind an orb of perfect protection around her, made of thick and seamless titanium.  She was enclosed instantly in her egg, giving her temporary and well needed respite as her thoughts raced to catch up with her.

This world—the battle site for their contest, wherever it was—seemed to respond to her very thoughts, materializing her will and giving it form against Cait Sith’s.  He was clearly more well versed in this world, which meant that she needed to catch up, and quickly.

The sphere around her began to groan, and she could hear it strain as the tentacles wrapped tighter and tighter around it, squeezing relentlessly, Cait Sith’s will tested against hers.

She couldn’t remain here, on the defensive.  She had to fight back.

Lightning willed her sphere to expand rapidly outward, pushing back the constricting coils of the kraken in a violent explosion.

She threw herself upward and into the air, feathery wings now keeping her aloft and beating gently, and a rocket launcher firmly in hand.  Her initial shot somehow missed, though, and out of the smoke of the explosion, a wyvern flew upward, slashing its claws at her.  Though able to evade the claws, Lightning was unceremoniously struck out of the sky by the spiked and vicious tale.

As she fell, she reached out toward the wyvern, imagining the same heavy gravity that had incapacitated her before.  Cait Sith tumbled downward with her, striking the ground a distance away from her, and already metamorphosing into another, more suitable form.

He rippled and and continued growing into something many times the size of the kitsune, and Lightning scrambled backward, her wings now gone.

The creature in front of her was a wordless horror, a titanic creature that was a bizarre blend of organic and metallic, its form coated in a mess of gold and silver and a burnished black lacquer.  There were great, feline paws at its front, each one easily large enough to crush her.  But Lightning’s attention was drawn to its head, more human than cat, and nearly fifteen feet tall.  It gazed at her, and as it grinned with pointed teeth, a set of several porcelain white and very human faces popped out on the sides of the main head, upside down and their mouths open in silent screams.

Lightning envisioned herself in shining armor, like a paladin warrior of old, except even more.  She grew until she was as tall as Cait Sith’s new form, a double double-edged sword in one hand, and a heavy tower shield in her other.  The form was completed by the thick white and gold plate armor.  It covered every last inch of her, down to an ornate horned helmet on her head. 

She flourished the superhuman sword, and dove forward as he screeched and released a barrage of icicles toward her.  She threw up her shield to absorb the brunt of the elemental attacks, and then flipped and ducked, avoiding the lethal swipes of his paws as she closed the distance.

At the last moment she launched herself and swung her sword downward at the menacing and still-smiling face.

Her blade stopped hard, ricocheting backwards.

Cait Sith had changed yet again, now a smaller and humanoid figure, but made of solid and impenetrable crystal.

She skidded backwards, automatically downsizing and reverting to her natural human form.  The crystal beast took to the air, its body growing more streamlined while large and angular crystallized wings sprouted from it’s back.  Cait Sith’s voice boomed in her head.

_Very nice!  But you will need more than that._

A black and glittering orb of dark fire sprouted in front of his newest form, and as it grew, Lightning felt the desperation and panic grow in her stomach.  Cait Sith was faster, smarter, and more experienced than her.  She was struggling to react, to counter him, and she was at a loss of what to do.  She need to strike him fast, faster than what he could predict.

Words echoed from the depths of her mind.

_I am the Lightning...the unstoppable blaze in the storm._

Her thoughts were given form before she even needed to speak them, and her will was manifested.

She was no longer in her body; she was the strike of plasma itself as it cracked and ripped through the air of their world, careening in an instant toward her target.

But even then, Cait Sith somehow brought a fist up, filled with that seething, dark fire.  Lightning struck it, and held.  They silently pressed against one another, Lightning refusing to back down while the fae refused to move before her blow.

They were at an impasse, and Lightning wanted to tear her hair at it.  She was giving it her all.  She couldn’t lose now.  It didn’t matter how old and tricky and knowledgeable Cait Sith was, she could not concede to him.

 _I may be human,_ she yelled in her head, _but I am not weak!_

The lightning was her will embodied, her force of thought and feeling.  She channeled her every fiber of consciousness toward breaking through Cait Sith’s shield.  Every last desire, hope and fear was focused on completing her strike and finishing this contest.  She would not bend, and she would not break.  She was Lightning Farron, and she would see it through to the end, or die trying.

There was the sound of breaking glass, and the bright world around them shattered apart into a dark shadow. 

And then she was alone in darkness.

* * *

 

The first gasp of breath into her lungs felt almost painful, and she coughed violently, eyes tearing up as they opened to the yellow and dappled sunlight of the Grand Park.

She was laying on her back against the tickling grass, and someone was shaking her shoulders rather hard.

“—wake up!  Don’t do this!  I swear to any gods out there, Light, I will kill you myself if you don’t—”

“I’m back!  I’m back, okay, Fang!?” She wheezed out the reassurance and tried to sit back up as the world stopped its violent spinning.

The shoulder-shaking stopped, only to be immediately replaced by the single greatest bone-crushing hug she had ever received.  When Fang let her go and backed off, Lightning saw that her face was a pallid and unnatural cheesy white.  Whatever had happened, she had clearly scared her partner very badly.

“Try not to die on us, Farron,” said Ashe dryly. “I don’t think any of us want to go through the ordeal of training a new squad member so soon, particularly your partner.”

Since when did the valkyrie of all people grow a sense of humor, she idly wondered.

“Sorry about that!” Cait Sith looked marginally apologetic as he vanished the strange stone away. “I forget that you humans aren’t as well versed with incorporeal travel.”

Lightning coughed a few more times.  She had a sneaking suspicion that she might have stopped breathing for a bit while she had been away in the white world. “Ah...what exactly...?”

She trailed off when Cait Sith very clearly began to smile, his whiskers jumping about in abject excitement. “You won!  Didn’t you realize?”

No, she didn’t realize, but she also had the prudence to keep that thought silently to herself.

“You humans,” marveled Cait Sith now, sounding happy and excited for all that he had lost. “You never cease to surprise me, even after millenia of playing with you.”

“Did I...?” Lightning trailed off.  What had happened at the end?

The black cat bowed before her, a formal gentleman’s bow now matched by his speech. “You bested me in a contest of wills, Lady Farron.  As I have thrice-sworn it, I so relinquish my claims and concede the spoils of victory to you.”

His giant moogle unclenched its fist, allowed Cid to fly free and back toward the rest of the SCS.

As Cid moved toward them, Cait Sith bounded back up the puppet moogle, as lithe and as dexterous as any cat.

“That was fun!” he exclaimed, now perched back atop his place. “Lightning Farron, if you ever want to play any games again, please let me know!”

Lightning shuddered as she recalled their “game”.  She shook her head. “Ah...thanks, but I think I’ll have to pass on that.”

The fae cat shrugged, looking not the the least bit downtrodden. “Too bad then.  That was the most excitement I’ve had in nearly a century.  You humans are such strange creatures...”

He was still speaking offhandedly as he opened a portal to the Otherworld of the fae and stepped through it, the air closing behind him in a twinkle of light as the passageway closed up again.  They were left in the quiet of the park as the remaining fae began to dissolve and slink away, Cid now safely at their side.

* * *

 

The one good thing about doing full team operations was that there was less paperwork for her and Fang.  Oh, sure, they still had to fill out their personal write-ups, but Lieutenant Rosch was in charge of writing the full report that would go to Jihl and any higher ups, which meant that there was significantly less paperwork for the rest of them.

A loud yawn drew her attention across the desk toward her partner, who had pushed back from her computer.  Lightning raised her eyebrow, not needing to speak for Fang to understand the question.

Fang first stretched languidly in her chair before getting up.  She cracked a few joints and then finally looked down at Lightning. “Hey, Light, what say we get out of here a bit early today?  I was thinking of grabbing a bite to eat to celebrate today’s victories.”

Lightning craned her head around to look out the windows behind her.  It was actually still light out, with evening just beginning to set in.

“Come on, Light.  Dinner’s even on me.  My treat.”

It would be nice to get out a little early compared to usual, and an easygoing dinner with Fang sounded...well, it sounded just great.  She smiled up at her partner, the pert response already forming on her lips. “That’s rather generous of you, Fang.  Just don’t complain later when you see how much I can eat.”

Fang grinned. “I’m gonna swing by the locker room quickly now.  You good to get going?”

Lightning nodded, still smiling as her partner exited toward the lockers.  She closed out of her open program and powered down her computer, taking a quick minute to organize her desk before she stood up to collect her keys and wallet.

“Farron!”

Cid flitted over to her desk as she was shrugging on her jacket.  For all of the mocking and vocal dissatisfaction with the pixie body, Cid had decided to keep it for the time being, claiming that even such a tiny creature was preferable to an inanimate object.  He landed on her desk, folding his arms and looking up at her.

“Please, sit down.  Just for a minute.  I’ll be quick.”

Lightning acquiesced, falling back into her chair so that the two of them were now at equal height, able to look one another in the eye.  Even in his almost comically miniature form, Cid looked utterly serious.  Then again, Cid was always serious; but there was something more to it this time as his blue eyes caught and held hers.  He took a deep breath, and spoke.

“You saved my life, Farron.  And what’s more, you did so while facing Cait Sith, who is no lightweight amongst the fae.”

“But any of us would have done it,” she automatically protested.  That she had been the one to engage Cait Sith seemed superfluous. “Rygdea, Kimahri...even Fang, I know it.”

Cid cut off her protests with a wave of one small arm. “Who else would have done it hardly matters.  The point is that it was you.  You stood for me and saved my life, which I have no intention of giving up for some time.  It was a great favor, Farron, and not one that I will soon or easily forget.”

He stopped for a moment, and bowed his tiny but handsome head toward her.

“I owe you a debt, Lightning Farron.  Should you ever need anything from me, do not hesitate to ask.” He bowed a second time. “A good evening to you.”

And then he was airborne again, flying off toward the staff kitchen or some other dark corner of the building.

Fang came back a minute later, her sleeves rolled up past her tan and well-muscled forearms, and her jacket casually strewn across one shoulder.  She raised an eyebrow after Cid, but kept her curiosity to herself.

“Ready to go, Light?  Hope you like sushi, ‘cause I was thinking of this great little hole-in-the-wall that’s down near the docks...”

As Lightning gladly followed Fang out of the offices—she _did_ like sushi—she found herself smiling while she said her evening goodbyes to her other squadmates.

The SCS was starting to feel like home.

 

_Report filed.  Case closed._


	4. Case 004: Blood Tithes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A string of murders is not all that it appears to be at first glance. When it involves other police branches, and centers around the Nautilus City crime lord, things quickly become more complex than what they seem, and the SCS steps in to clean things up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks goes out to fmo for helping through this chapter. I really don't know how I would have managed to get through this beast without your help. Thank you for keeping from getting too deep inside my own head.
> 
> I hope you all read and enjoy this chapter--as always, comments, feedback, and critical reviews are highly, highly appreciated!
> 
> Cheers!

The past week had been a quiet one for the SCS.  While Lightning had heard reports of other departments within the Nautilus PD handling a slew of crime as the heat waves had passed through, the SCS seemed to have been spared that.  It had been a time to catch up on paperwork and the never ending list of things that needed to be done but they never seemed to have time for.

The break in case work had been nice, but Lightning knew everyone, including herself, had been itching for the pace to pick back up, even if no one had voiced it yet.

That being the case, she supposed she should be happy to actually get out of the building for a bit, even if she was currently filled with a sense of trepidation.

Only a scant half hour earlier, Fang’s desk phone had rung, a direct call from outside of the offices.  Initially focused on her own work, Lightning had stopped to surreptitiously listen in when Fang had responded to the caller with a noticeable and casual familiarity.

By the time Fang had put down the phone and started signalling toward Lightning, she was already more than a bit intrigued.

“Come on,” Fang had urged. “We need to go make a stop by the coroner’s office.”

Which is how they now found themselves here, stepping foot into the city morgue.

 _Not a place I can say I’ve frequented_.

Even in Homicide, she had stuck to field work, waiting for the results to get delivered from the ME and the labs rather than visiting the central coroner’s building.  Maybe it was simply a leftover sentiment from when her parents had passed away, but she never liked going into the cold mortuary room where they would hold the bodies for medical autopsy before releasing them to the families...assuming there were any families for the victims.

Despite that residual feeling, she still found herself more than a bit curious as to why such a quick personal phone call had Fang rushing to the police coroner.  It hadn’t come through Jihl or Yaag, which meant it couldn’t be official business; and while Fang appeared intent, she did not have the fearful and nearly panicked look of someone who feared a personal tragedy...a look Lightning knew far too well.

No, they were here for somewhat else, so it was with only a small measure of surprise that Lightning saw Fang easily great one of the autopsy assistants, calling out to the young man by name.

The assistant seemed completely unruffled by Fang’s appearance at the morgue, though he definitely looked over Lightning with a curious interest.  Clearly Fang was well known here, which Lightning filed away in the back of her mind for later reference.

“She’s in the mortuary,” he said. “Just go ahead on in.  Passcode right now is 9173.”

Fang waved her thanks and proceeded to the sealed door that led into the morgue proper.  The door was automatically locked when closed, with an electronic pin pad as the only way of getting in.  In a moment, Fang had inputted the passcode and there was the sound of the lock clicking out of place.

She opened the door and gestured for Lightning to go through first.

The first thing that struck her was the cold air.  It was to be expected that the morgue would be refrigerated, but it still sent an automatic wave of goosebumps prickling across her skin.

Fang walked around her, and waved toward the sole living occupant of the room. “Hey, Vanille!”

The petite, orange-haired young woman in the shining white lab coat—surely no older than Serah, Lightning realized—was already familiar to her.  It was the same woman in the picture with Fang that was lovingly tended to alongside the blue orchid at her partner’s desk.

“Vanille, Lightning.  Lightning...this is my sister, Vanille.” Fang smiled broadly as she introduced the two.

“Pleased to meet you, Vanille,” said Lightning reflexively.

She was taken aback by how enthused Fang’s sister seemed upon meeting her.  In fact, the young woman seemed almost overly excited, if the bright and bubbling smile that split her face meant anything.  She reached out and grabbed Lightning’s hand in a firm shake before Light could even bring herself to react.

“No, no, the pleasure is really mine!  It’s good to _finally_ meet Fang’s partner from work—I thought I was never going to meet this nearly mythical “Lightning” at the rate we were going.”

“Ah...” What exactly was she supposed to say back to that?

“Oh, shush you,” chided Fang, and Lightning saw that she flushed slightly. “You’re meeting her now, aren’t you?”

Vanille seemed to pout at that, at which point Fang groaned. “We can all go out for dinner sometime or something, okay?” She looked in sheepish apology toward Light before continuing. “Now, what did you want us for?”

“Well, I’ve had my hands full with my own set of autopsies, but there was one that the Chief was running...”

“Wait, you’re one of the head coroners?”

Lightning blurted out the words, both amazed and in disbelief.  She looked at the white lab jacket that Vanille was wearing, saw the title “Senior Coroner”, and not the expected “Assistant”.

 _Vanille_ was one of the MEs here?  Not the chief, no, but still...she looked like she couldn’t be older than Serah, and yet she had to possess a medical degree in order to head autopsies. 

“Let’s just say that I’ve got a _talent_ for understanding death,” said Vanille, smiling widely.

“You’re an oddity!” Lightning let the words slip before even realizing. “That is...I didn’t realize...”

Vanille waved down the concern, clearly taking no offense from it. “My blood descends from a long line reaching back to the Ammit.”

She tugged on her lab coat.

“As you can see, I clearly don’t look part crocodile, hippo, and lion, but the nature of the Death Devourers runs true even after a few thousand years of dilution.  Plus, it’s pretty helpful in my line of work.”

Lightning nodded, only half understanding what had been told to her, but choosing to accept it and avoid asking any more questions, lest she embarrass herself further.

“So, Van...what is it you’ve got to show us today?” Fang asked again. “Something interesting?”

“Of course!” She giggled, and the sound reminded Lightning exactly of her own sister. “Though, for now, this is strictly off-record.  I submitted my autopsy results, but they were superseded by the chief.”

Fang let out a groan of exasperation. “Great...who is it that doesn’t want to let go of the bone and hand it over to us?”

Vanille smiled but shook her head. “Homicide Department this time.  Can’t you do something about it?  I’ll never understand all of the posturing between departments...you all work for the same Chief of Police at the end of the day!”

That information made Lightning want to pinch the bridge of her nose as a headache already began forming.

It was a given that there was always a certain amount of territorial disputes, so to speak, between the departments within the PD.  It was always a tug of war between who had started the case and who thought that their department was more deserving of actually closing it out; and the bigger the case, the less either side was willing to compromise and hand it over.

In the SCS’s situation, they were never in any particularly good bargaining positions.  They operated across all neighborhoods of the city, crossing local police lines; unlike Narc, Special Victims, or Homicide, they tended to pull from all manner of crimes.  That in combination with the fact that they operated more akin to S.W.A.T. instead of a typical department meant that they tended to step on a lot of toes, which earned them few favors when push came to shove over case arguments.

Lightning could remember from her own time back in Homicide how much the SCS was generally despised.  From the newest academy graduate right up to the captain himself, _no one_ wanted to work with the Odd Jobs.  The SCS was halfway to a curse that was hissed under your breath, the last name you wanted to hear in connection with a case you were working.

It only made her all the more anxious now. 

_Really, of all the groups it has to be Homicide on this one?_

But maybe it was an overreaction.  Maybe what Vanille wanted them to see was oddity-related, but not so much that they needed to confront Homicide and try to seize the case.

“It seems like a fairly straightforward set of deaths when you look at—gun violence, crime, death...”

“But you think differently,” finished Lightning. “Which is why you called in Fang.”

All of the earlier cheer and mirth was gone from Vanille’s face, replaced by a professional calm. “Exactly.  Here.  Look at this.”

She handed over the chief ME’s report to them as she moved over to one of the covered bodies that was on a stainless steel autopsy table.

Lightning skimmed over the report, pulling the necessary tidbits of information from it.  Male, white, approximately thirty-two years of age, known drug-dealer for Yojimbo...

... _isn’t that interesting..._

...fatally shot to death two days prior along with two associate smugglers at a dead drop location by the docks, assumed to be a drug exchange gone wrong between dealer and buyer.

She looked over the file one last time before stepping closer to Vanille and the now exposed cadaver, Fang right at her side.  The corpse was an unearthly shade of white, sickly and sallow despite the cold storage temperatures of the morgue.  There was a huge line of sutures across his sternum and down his stomach from where the autopsy examiners had cut him open and then sewn him back up.

Most noticeable by far, though, were the large chunks of flesh that had been torn into by gunfire.  Lightning was no ammunition expert, but she presumed only some sort of modified heavy arm could do that kind of concussive damage on human flesh.

“Well?” asked Fang. “He got caught in a firefight, that for sure.  What did you want to show us?”

At least Lightning wasn’t the only one who was confused.  The coroner’s report seemed fairly clear, and the evidence in front of her matched up well.  What were they missing?

“Oh the bullets were undoubtedly the cause of death,” agreed Vanille. “But what I do contest is just who shot him, and why.”

She pushed the head of the corpse to the side, and pointed with her gloved fingers against the pallid skin of the neck.  There, barely noticeable even in the glaring and harsh light of the morgue, were the tiniest of two puncture wounds.

No one needed to say what they were.

“This bite was inflicted as the victim was bleeding out.  My guess is that someone got a little bit too hungry to wait until later for a snack.  But then again, bloodshed is known to excite a vampire’s Hunger.”

Fang cursed, and Lightning couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Vampires...fuck.”

It looked like they were all about to get a lot more work.

* * *

 

Lightning looked over the sizeable pile of cases in front of her, a pile that had only grown as the morning had bled into afternoon and the whole of the squad was put on investigating what they now believed to be a series of vampire attacks specifically targeting Yojimbo and his men. 

Even if Homicide was on the most recent case, Lightning had a feeling it would not long remain that way.  Once Fang had reported the findings Vanille had given them, the captain had left the office for almost the entire remainder of the morning.  She had returned barely an hour ago looking scarily pleased, and retreated to her office to speak with Yaag while the rest of the squad began pouring over other involved cases.

A review over the past few weeks’ string of police blotters began to reveal an underlying pattern that they wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.  Over the better portion of that last month, there had been an increasing number of seemingly random and unlinked altercations involving people and agents affiliated with Yojimbo.

But beyond those similarities, there just didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it.  The first case that appeared to be part of this bigger scheme happened in the Red Light District of all places.  Two basic thugs, going out for a night of some fun in one of the brothels.  They ended up in the back of a nameless alley, each with no less than seventeen stab wounds a piece.

And _that_ was the real kicker, looking over the series of deaths.  Not a single one seemed to be the same method, but all of the held the same nearly incomprehensible rage.  Why stab or shoot a man fifty times over when one well placed strike would do the job?  These killings didn’t seem professional; they seemed personal, likes crimes of passion.

Lightning had no doubt that a mafioso like Yojimbo had more than earned the biting and lasting hatred of a good many people—it was an unspoken given considering the nature of who and what he was.  Yet at the same time, this was organized, pinpointed, and cunningly well-disguised.

Until Vanille had caught on to the puncture wounds, the only connecting detail Lightning could see was in the brutality of all of the deaths.  Complete and total exsanguination.  Granted, considering that they were looking at vampires, she really shouldn’t be all that surprised.

She flipped through some of the crime scene pictures again—pale, bloodless bodies sitting in pools of crimson—and shook her head.

“We can’t be the only ones who have picked up on this.”

Lightning looked up at Fang.  Her partner looked darkly pensive.  One hand was slowly rubbing her chin, and her eyes were shadowed but keen.

The files were placed back onto her desk, and Lightning gave Fang her full attention. “What do you mean?”

“Even with the different methods of killing, someone else would had to have picked up on the pattern of killings.” She tapped a finger over her own stack of files. “Maybe Homicide is the being bulldog right now with this latest case, but I don’t believe for one second that Organized Crime doesn’t have their paws all over this either.  This is right up their alley, especially since the scope and scale of these murders is becoming increasingly more widespread and public.”

It was true.  With this kind of pattern becoming more apparent, the Organized Crime Division must have its ear to the ground.  Dealing with Yojimbo on his own was one thing, but handling a full scale mafia war was something that Nautilus hadn’t done in generations, and the results could end up being devastating if the conflict escalated to the open streets.

“So then what—”

Lightning cut herself off as the door to the captain’s office swung open, and Jihl walked out, Yaag right behind her.  As per usual, all and any talk in the office immediately stilled, and the attention turned fully onto their squad captain.

Her eyes surveyed the office easily, and then stopped and rested on the island of desks that Fang and Lightning occupied.

Lightning felt her stomach drop before words were even spoken.

“Ah...Fang...Farron.  Both of you seem quite alert and awake today.  Come.  I would like your company on an excursion with Lieutenant Rosch and I.  You are quite familiar with the Homicide Department, aren’t you, Farron?”

_What?!_

Lightning managed not to let the question pass her lips, but a strangled sound still caught in her throat.

Fang was on her feet in an instant, stepping up such that she protectively obscured the view between Jihl and Lightning. “Uh...ma’m?  I don’t quite understand.”

Rosch seemed irritated, but Jihl spoke before him, her voice dangerously honied and patient, and every word clearly enunciated. “We are going to the Homicide Department to handle some business.  And considering that this business is directly related to the vampire case that you so diligently brought to my attention...and considering that Ms. Farron is so familiar with the Homicide Department, I thought it only... _appropriately_ _fitting_...that you two should join us.”

Which meant that there was no option in the matter.

Lightning schooled her features into a calm mask, even though she knew that Jihl could probably see through it; she would not give the woman the satisfaction of directly viewing her discomfort.

By the time she and Fang slid into the backseat of the sleek department sedan, she resigned herself to her fate, even if a small corner of her mind insisted, _“This cannot be happening right now”_.

She felt Fang’s eyes on her as they drove across town, but Lightning opted to maintain the silence and look out the window, taking what precious little time there was to compose herself.

This was _not_ how she wanted her first encounter back with Homicide to go.  She had thought...well, she hadn’t really thought at all about Homicide or any of the old faces back there.  She’d moved to another department, and that was that.  But this was certainly _not_ how she envisioned her first interaction with her old squad...not getting dragged into their territory and their department, with her SCS badge on and behind a captain who was there to most assuredly stir things up.

Lightning swallowed down the stirrings of anxiety.  This was not going to be fun.

They pulled up in front of well-kept brick building, with gold lettering over the entrance that Lightning knew without even reading.

Nautilus Police: Department of Homicide Investigations

Jihl lead the way in to the familiar offices as if she owned the place, giving no heed to the way conversation died and eyes trained themselves on her with equal parts suspicion and dislike.

Instead, she walked directly toward the closed door of the captain’s office, until one particularly foolish young officer cut them off.

“Excuse me, but can I help you?”

He sounded as though he wanted to do anything but.

“No, you may not,” responded Yaag. “We are here to speak with the captain.  Where is the he?”

The officer looked affronted. “He’s busy in a meeting right now.  If you want, you can leave a mes...what are you doing?!”

Jihl walked around the man without a care in the world, already reaching for the handle to the door.

“You can’t just—”

“We can and we are,” snarled Rosch, giving his most frigid glare toward the officer. “Now out of the way.”

Then he opened the door without further delay, and they barged into the private office of the Captain of Homicide.

Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg was a stern, no-nonsense kind of leader—Lightning had known that her entire time working under him—and he did not take kindly to unwarranted interruptions.

His lips paled and thinned, and Lightning thought that he was going to yell, but then his gaze settled on Jihl, and she could almost hear him grinding his teeth.

“Nabaat.  I should have known.  Only you would barge in here like this.”

Jihl made a careless gesture with her hand. “Ah, but I have important business to discuss.  With both of you.”

The other occupant of the office, a dark-skinned and middle-aged officer also wearing a captain’s badge, frowned at that.  Then he spoke. “Jihl Nabaat, huh?  I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of officially working together yet.”

Jihl smiled. “You may yet, shortly.  Captain Katzroy, Ronsenburg...you know myself.  This is my lieutenant, Yaag Rosch, and two of my officers, Fang and Farron.”

Basch looked over the members of the SCS, cold gaze lingering on Lightning.  What he thought of her now, in this very moment, she did not know, and she she found she did not care to know.

“Sir,” Lightning bowed her head toward Basch.  He had been her captain for the two years prior to the SCS, and they needed no introductions between the two of them, no matter the current situation.

However, the other captain got up and held out his hand, engulfing Lightning’s in a warm and tight handshake.

“Sazh Katzroy, Captain of Organized Crime.”

Lightning vaguely recognized the friendly and mild-mannered captain.  He’d headed the Organized Crime Division for just over a year, and though word was that he was hard at work reorganizing his squad and redirecting efforts on the street, everyone knew that his hands were more than full in dealing with Yojimbo.  She did not envy his job.

After introductions were made, Sazh returned to his seat, and Basch took the reins again. “Charming as this all is, what do you want, Nabaat?”

“My, my, in quite the rush today, aren’t we?” For her part, Jihl seemed in no hurry, and was slowly fishing for a cigarette.  She began smoking before even pausing to ask, “I hope you don’t mind.”

Basch looked coldly furious. “Enough!  What business are you here on?”

It was only after she exhaled a few breaths of black smoke that Jihl chose to speak.

“A little bird told me that you’ve not been playing nice, Captain fon Ronsenburg...and that you’ve been pulling Captain Katzroy into these matters with you.”

“Now wait just one seco—”

“You’ve been hiding things from me that are _my business_.”

In a heartbeat, Jihl’s voice had gone from warmly amiable to cooly ominous, and everyone, even Basch and Sahz, who stood on equal rank with her, daren’t speak.

“You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about, and as absolutely enchanting as a string of cases targeting Yojimbo’s criminal organization is, when it concerns vampires, it _concerns me_. “

Jihl snapped her fingers, and a moment later Yaag was pulling out a thick and folded packet of blue papers.

“I believe you’ll find all of the paperwork in order, here.  The Chief of Police seemed quite well convinced that _we_ were the department best equipped to handle an investigation involving vampires.  Of course, if you feel otherwise, you are free to talk with him.”

Neither Basch nor Sazh needed to curse aloud in order for their frustration to be heard.  If the Chief had already had his say on the issue, it was a done deal, and considering the effort Jihl would have gone through to secure it writing, both of the other captains knew as well as anyone else in the room that the Chief would not look kindly on them trying to question his decision in the matter.

That said, it was for this exact reason that the SCS was, in part, so despised among the other departments.  The majority of the time, case ownership disputes were settled directly between the divisions.  While it was understood that neither side would want to let go of a big case, it was also mutually understood that compromises would be reached internally, without involving the Chief or anyone in Internal Affairs.  The fact that Jihl obtained and issued that ultimatum so quickly and easily only validated in the minds of standard officers just how inflexible the SCS was to deal with.

However, if Jihl had even the slightest concern about such alienation, it did not show.  While Basch and Sahz both visibly fumed as Yaag placed the papers down on the table, Jihl simply leaned back into the seat she had taken, looking pleased beyond measure and continuing to blow the occasional smoke ring.

When neither of the departmental captains was forthcoming in a response, Jihl continued, her eyes briefly flickering over.

“Fang...Farron.  Wait at the car for us.  Lieutenant Rosch and I should be along shortly now.  Just a few details that we need to ensure are handed over to us about the cases.”

Lightning didn’t need telling twice; both she and Fang were more than eager to escape the room and avoid whatever fallout was about to occur.

It was in the middle of a quick step and halfway to the exit of the building that she was halted by her name being called out

“Lightning!  Wait up!”

She stopped and turned toward the voice, catching sight of a familiar lanky form and mop of light hair jogging over toward her.

Hope Estheim: her former partner from Homicide.

She stared at him as he approached.  He didn’t look a day different from when she still worked alongside him.

Then Fang spoke.

“Light?”

Lightning caught everything in her voice.  The hesitation, the curiosity, and the nearly protective suspicion.

 _Of course_ , Lightning thought, suddenly both relieved and endeared. _Of course Fang would know how hard this is for me coming back here...and of course she’d be able to tell who my old partner was._

She smiled then, and felt the tension release from her shoulders. “It’s okay, Fang.  Just give me a minute and then I’ll catch up with you.’

Her partner nodded once, slowly, and then turned back on her course out of the building, waving. “I’ll be waiting at the car!”

Lightning watched her go, only turning around once the doors had closed behind her.

“Hope.”

He came to a stop in front of her, his face a clear mix of surprise, mixed with both excitement and caution.  She waited for him to speak first; he had, after all, been the one to call her attention.

“Lightning...you look...well,” Hope struggled to find the right words now that they were face to face, and something of an awkward silence descended between them.

“As do you, Hope.  How have things been here?  Good?”

He smiled, somewhat abashed. “Oh, you know how it is.  Same old, same old.  Things are still what they always were...though a bit different without you around.”

Lightning looked past his shoulder at an unfamiliar young man who now occupied the desk that she once called her own. “All set in with your new partner then?”

“Oh, yeah!  We work together great...n-not that you and I didn’t...I mean...”

Her laugh was light, if a bit forced. “It’s good that you two are getting along.  Trusting your case partner is...well, you know how important it is.”

“Yeah...”

The silence descended on them again, and then it was Hope who broke it.

“I’m sorry about SCS,” he said, and for moment Lightning was utterly confused. “I know you had wanted S.W.A.T...”

His apology clicked back together in her mind.  The two of them hadn’t spoken—hell, Lightning hadn’t spoken with anyone in Homicide—since her transfer to SCS.  It was no surprise that he was voicing his disappointment in where Lightning had gotten assigned.  Hadn’t she been the exact same herself those months long passed?

“Hope, it’s okay.” Her voice was gentle, and she felt something in her loosen and ease. “Everything’s worked out for the best.”

She saw his eyes widen in shock, and then narrow again as he scrambled to cover it. “So...so you’re doing well there?  Even with all of the oddities?”

“Better than well, Hope.” She didn’t bother to dampen her voice.  Despite what they might appear to be working on, she knew that every officer in the room was hanging on to her every word, waiting to see what she would say.

“The SCS...it was good move...the _right_ move for me.  I’m happy there.  More than what I ever thought I’d be.”

And that was an admission to herself just as much as to her old department.

“I-I see!”

The confusion and disbelief were written all across Hope’s face.  Wanting to spare him anything further, and now feeling ready to go back out to the car, Lightning reached out to clasp her former case partner firmly on the shoulder.

“Good luck, Hope.  Keep doing good things, and take care of yourself.”

Hope recovered himself then, and he returned the clasp, smiling back at her the same way that they always used to. “You, too, Light.  Take care...and good luck.”

They squeezed each other’s shoulders one last time, and then Lightning was moving out of the Homicide HQ, her head high and her gaze forward, continuing to smile as she heard the whispers of gossip explode into life behind her.

Once out in the open air and sunshine, she tilted her head back into the wind and breathed loudly.  It was as though some unresolved issue within herself had been finally been laid to rest.

“Catch-up with your old partner go okay?” Fang’s voice was politely disinterested, but Lightning caught the way her green eyes glittered and shimmered back.

She nodded to Fang to indicate that all was well, and found herself thinking...thinking and remembering.

She and Hope had been good partners.  They had been no dream team, certainly, but they had worked, and they’d done well by each other in Homicide.  Nonetheless, Lightning had held no qualms about pursuing greater dreams beyond her relatively simple status with Hope.  They might have worked, but she had been ambitious, and she knew that she could do more.

That had been why she had seized on the extra training and promotion chance with so little hesitation.  The chance to join S.W.A.T., to go beyond her base rank in Homicide...her partnership with Hope wasn’t even a consideration by comparison.

Of course, Lightning had been more than reticent when she was forced to join the SCS—she would be the first to admit that.  She had viewed it as a punishment, a mistake.  Even after the necromancer-lich case, she had been uncomfortable and uneasy about her seemingly hasty assignment to be case partners with Fang.  A case partner was no small thing, and even her pairing with Hope had not been easily decided upon in Homicide.  If she and Fang hadn’t gotten along, if they had ended up being polar opposites...well, there was a reason why all the older, veteran officers always talked about their partners being even closer than their husbands and wives.  Your partner was everything, and Lightning had finally come to appreciate that.

All of her secret and fearful concerns over the SCS...over Fang...had been entirely unfounded.  She had thought she wouldn’t fit, that she would be surrounded by a group of social misfits that she couldn’t even begin to connect with.

She looked at Fang’s face, sculpted and pretty in the yellow afternoon sun.

How wrong she had been.

It was funny almost.  She was going on nearly half a year working in the SCS, and for all of her initial concern over what oddities she was working with, she found that she no longer even cared to ask Fang what she was.  It was her partner’s own personal business, and as far as Lightning was concerned, it had no impact on how they worked together.

“What are you smiling about?” asked Fang, quirking her head and smiling cautiously back.

Lightning shook her head. “Nothing.  Things are just better than expected.”

And wasn’t that the truth?

She couldn’t imagine herself working alongside any other person than the one standing next to her.  She and Fang _worked_ , and Lightning wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Fang grinned, and her face seemed to relax. “Good.  That’s what I like to hear.”

Then she nodded at something behind Lightning. “Come on.  Looks like the boss is finished.  Let’s get going.”

* * *

 

“We have visitors.”

Jihl raised her eyebrows at the message that Amodar delivered to them as soon as they reentered the SCS Headquarters.

“Do we now?” she asked silkily, with a deceptive softness to her voice.

Amodar nodded, looking like he hardly cared either way. “Put them in the back conference room—got Ashe there with them now.  Thought you’d want some capable hands watching over...it’s Yojimbo.”

Lightning started, but held her tongue.

What the hell was that scum doing here of all places?

“Well then,” Jihl’s lips twisted into a cruel and dark smirk. “I’d best not keep our guest waiting.”

Lightning shared a quick glance with Fang, and then the two returned toward their desks, Lightning fighting the urge to shake her head.  At least they were done with—

“Fang...Farron...just where were you about to go off to?”

Lightning stopped dead at the velvety smooth question, feeling like a child caught red-handed doing something wrong.

“I was just—”

“I thought that—”

The only consolation was that Fang seemed as equally contrite.

Jihl only continued to stare as their protests quickly died.  Lightning sighed, resigning herself to her fate. “Did you need us, captain?”

The smile that bloomed on Jihl’s face was half pleased and half knowing as she pinned Lightning with a lazy gaze. “Why yes, I would like both of you to accompany the lieutenant and I to the conference room, if you would?”

Lightning fell in step with Fang’s stride, and both of them continued behind their squad leaders toward the back, where their “honored guests” awaited them.

They entered the conference room to find Yojimbo already seated comfortably in a chair, while his two “associates” that he had brought with him remained standing close behind.  Ashe was standing rigidly by the door like a guard, and Lightning had the sudden impression that almost no conversation had gone on during the period while they had all been waiting for Jihl to return.

Without even blinking, Ashe turned and bowed her head toward Jihl. “Captain.”

Jihl nodded back. “You may go, Ashe.”

She took her leave without so much as a word, closing the door behind her, leaving them to a growing silence.

“Well?” Jihl broke the quiet, looking utterly amused as she sat down. “What brings the king out of his castle?  And to the police department of all places?”

Yojimbo didn’t mince his words.

“You know as well as I do that I have eyes and ears marked all across the city, and in every police department.” He paused for a moment, matching gazes with Jihl, and speaking slowly and reluctantly. “Except yours, of course.”

The smile on Jihl’s face grew, and Lightning could see Yojimbo’s throat move as he swallowed before continuing.

“I know that you spoke with the Chief of Police, and I know that you just returned from the Homicide HQ where you met with both the Captain of Homicide and the Captain of Organized Crime...and I know that you and your department are now heading the investigation that those two had been squabbling over—the investigation into the recent targeted killings of the men and women under my employ.”

Jihl leaned back into her chair, taking her time to pull out her cigarette box from within her black suit jacket and to again select the most choice of smokes for herself.  It was only once she had taken a few long drags and and the air was heavy with a haze that she deigned to speak again, drawing out every last syllable over her pink lips.

“So then...if you know so much, Yojimbo, then kindly tell me: why are you here?”

The mobster steepled his fingers, and his face was veiled as he looked at Jihl. “Because I know the way your department operates, Jihl Nabaat, and I know that there is more at work here than what is being said.  I want to know just who and what has been targeting me.”

“And why,” drawled Jihl, exhaling another stream of smoke. “Should I feel any need to tell you of all people?”

Lightning had to give him some credit: he stood his ground, even before Jihl. “Because if I know what it is that you’re looking for, then I can help you focus your lens more appropriately.”

“Equal exchange, then?” The captain’s eyes were heavy and half-lidded, with golden slits just barely peeking out below the blonde lashes.

Yojimbo nodded once, and Lightning saw the sweat on his brow reflect under the artificial lights.

“Tell me, Captain Nabaat, who is attacking me?”

Jihl nodded to Yaag to go ahead and speak for her, but Lightning noticed that all the while her cat-slitted eyes were pinned on Yojimbo, as if eagerly awaiting his response.

She shuddered involuntarily.

Yaag cleared his throat and spoke without any hint of remorse or pity. “Vampires.  By all indications, you appear to earned the ire of a highly organized group of vampires, possibly a nest.”

Though he did not immediately speak, Lightning saw all of the blood slowly drain from Yojimbo’s face as his jaw tightened painfully.

“These... _vermin_...are what have been brutally and ruthlessly killing my people?”

His voice had not risen in volume.  In fact, it had grown quieter.  Yet Lightning could feel the anger rolling in waves off of him.  He knew what was not spoken...that those the vampires had killed thus far had not died clean deaths, that they had been fed on and bled by their own murderers.

Jihl showed no mercy, though.

“Equal exchange, Yojimbo.  That was the deal.  Now, tell me, in what ugly corner of the city have you heard about vampires...because I know you have.” She paused for a second, and her voice dropped in pitch, now a low warning. “And let me remind you now.  Should you choose to act on your own, there will be...repercussions.”

There was no doubt about the threat being laid down, and Lightning silently approved of it.  The last thing they needed was for Yojimbo to walk out after this meeting and cause a full-out gang war in the streets of the city as he tried to enact revenge.

“Well?” persisted Rosch.

“The Red Light District,” Yojimbo finally said, and Lightning was surprised.

_There of all places?_

Though hesitant at first, Yojimbo began speaking. “We’ve known for some time that one of the main brothels in the Red Light District is operated by oddities of...questionable nature.” 

“And this just happened out of the blue?” asked Fang, her voice rife with ridicule.

“It is true that I have been working to expand my...businesses...in that area of town recently, but my acquisitions have been largely peaceful, financial transactions, and there has been no hint of such severe...discontent.  I had contacted this particular house, as it is one of the oldest on the row, and is reputed to bring in a sizeable income, but I was flatly refused.  I was planning further acquisitions down the road, but that would not be for some time in the future.  Why they are doing this now...”

Yojimbo’s grey eyes flickered, and Lightning was suddenly able to put a name to the look she had seen bubbling up behind his brow.

Behind all of the violent anger and displeasure, Yojimbo was afraid.

And could she really blame him?

This was the man who had ruled the greater portion of the Nautilus underworld for the past several years, and not without reason.  Even though she now worked in the SCS, Lightning knew what an iron grip the man had to rule with.  The hierarchy of the criminal world was equal parts fickle and brutal, and Yojimbo had not kept where he was by showing mercy to the more subversive elements within his organization.

But this threat did not come from whisperings within.

It was an attack from the outside, organized, skilled, and, most importantly, beyond the clout and control the Yojimbo exerted. 

He wasn’t dealing with another drug lord or upstart gang leader.  These were vampires, whose ultimate objectives—beyond crippling or destroying Yojimbo’s grasp on the streets—was unclear.

“You’ll give all of the details you know to my lieutenant now.” Jihl spoke in a casual command rather than a request, and with such an air of indifference that it was clear she expected her wishes to be followed, regardless of whom she was speaking to. “Fang and Farron.  You may leave us.”

The both nodded, and then Lightning tried not to look too eager as she followed on Fang’s tail out of the door.

Fang had already made a beeline straight for their desks, but Lightning opted to grab a drink from the kitchen first. 

On her way back with a can of soda securely in hand, she was intercepted by the last person she wanted to talk with on a one-to-one basis.

“What do you want?” she asked bluntly, foregoing any premise of warmth or hospitality.  She owed Yojimbo nothing, not even common courtesy as far she was concerned.

At least her lack of manners always seemed to have some impact.  She took pleasure in the way that Yojimbo’s lips tightened and a tiny muscle in his cheeks twitched just the smallest fraction.

“At least I can count on you to be honest with me, Farron, I will give you that much.”

Lightning gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. “What do you want, Yojimbo?  If you have any other questions or information, Jihl is right over there.”

He shook his head, and Lightning was puzzled, although she refused to show her curiosity.  What _did_ the man want with her?

“That’s not what I came over here for, my dear woman.”

“Then what are you here for?”

Belligerence was a weapon, and she had no regrets about using it, though this time Yojimbo seemed unaffected by her rudeness.

“I wanted to thank you...Farron.”

In an instant she rounded on him, her own anger rising back to life out of her incredulity. “Don’t even.  I am _not_ doing this for you, however you may construe it.  I don’t care about your precious little underworld empire or your throne on top of it all.  I’m doing this because _people are dying_ , and it’s only a matter of time until more innocents get caught up in this.”

If her lashing words surprised him, he didn’t show it.  Yojimbo seemed completely unperturbed, as if he had expected as much. “Then you see part of what I’m trying to create and preserve.  You understand how criminal warfare can tear this city apart from within.  _That_ is what I have been trying to prevent in consolidating my so-called “empire” as you put it.  I know you don’t agree with me, and I know what I say will hardly make a difference to you...but, nonetheless, I owe you some measure of gratitude for the job that you are doing.”

His eyes shimmered, and Lightning had a feeling that whatever she might say back he was already prepared for.  Uneasy and irritated by that sense alone, she settled for a furious glare and harumph of disapproval, nearly stomping away to her desk as the crime lord took his leave from their offices.

“What was that?” asked Fang once Lightning had returned to their respective desks, curious and wary. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Uh huh...you just look like your feathers got a bit ruffled.  What he say to you?”

Lightning slowed her breathing down.  Yojimbo always did this to her.  He always managed to get under skin without even trying.  It was no excuse to be so clipped with her partner, though.

She attempted to explain. “He just...I don’t even know.  He was trying to thank me for working on this case, as if I actually care about the fact that his monopoly is the one suffering from this all.”

Fang hummed in thought. “He’s an interesting bloke, that one.  I can’t pin him down.”

“He’s a criminal, that’s all.”  It was as simple as that.

“I suppose you’re right.” Fang rubbed the back of her neck. “Anyway, he doesn’t have to do the least with what our job is.”

Her partner cracked her knuckles and grinned ferociously. “Time to pull out the stakes and garlic.  Looks like we’ve got some hunting to do!” 

* * *

 

As it turned out, wooden stakes and garlic were hardly the weapons needed for a good old-fashioned vampire hunt, and where those urban legends had popped up from, Lightning would probably never know.

Vampires reacted to garlic about as strongly as the next person, and a while a wooden stake to the heart would kill them, it would also kill most other creatures.

Really, the most important thing Lightning had been told to bring was her personal totem.  She never took off her necklace of Etro, so that really wasn’t an issue.  She could only hope that there wouldn’t be a need to use it.

If they were facing an actual _nest_ of vampires, though...

Lightning shook her head to herself. 

It _was_ curious that this particular nest of vampires was picking now to attack.  Unlike many other oddities, vampires were treated as immediate and extreme threats, due to their predatory nature toward humans.  It was expected that you would always have some of them slinking around the underworld and the less savory areas of town, but for there to be an entire nest thriving just under everyone’s noses, and for generations at that, was incredible.

Lightning shook her head slightly.  It was more than worrisome, as was the fact that the vampires had decided to play their hand and begin acting now.  She couldn’t see the greater logic behind their attacks on Yojimbo’s people, even with what they knew. 

Their information digging had uncovered more than what even Yojimbo had known.  The “one” house that he had told them of was only the tip of the iceberg.  After tracing a series of false names, overseas bank accounts, and a complex electronic maze of money, they had found a labyrinthian system that linked back roughly three-quarters of the entire Red Light District in Nautilus back to this single whore house.  This wasn’t simply a profitable brothel, it was a monopoly on the scale of Yojimbo’s .

While, yes, there had been the potential threat of Yojimbo encroaching on their “territory”, the sudden switch to such a lethal and systematic counterstrike seemed more than a bit bizarre and rash in Lightning’s book.  In doing so, the vampires had picked up the attention of the SCS.  They had stepped out of the shadows that had hid them so well for who knows how long.  But why?

There was no time to think on the anomaly.  Lightning had to focus on what was needed here and now.

The entire SCS squad was in the building armory, taking their pick of gear and weaponry for the upcoming raid.  Lightning finished strapping on her thick kevlar vest and then slid on her armored riot gloves.  The gear was wanted protection, but even within the air conditioned bowels of the SCS she felt a thin and immediate sheen of sweat jump into life on her brow.  She would probably lose a few pounds just in sweat by the time the op was over.

“Hey, Light!”

She looked up in time to catch her utility belt from the air as Fang tossed it toward her.  The standard items they typically carried had been modified for this mission, and Lightning took a moment as she clipped on her belt to familiarize herself with what she had on hand.

It was surprisingly simple, though she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting.  By all indications, they were dealing with monsters wearing human masks, with the easiest way of handling them being sheer—and lethal—force.

That being the case, her belt was packed with extra magazines of ammunition, some flash bangs, and even two hand grenades, which made her swallow and mentally step back for a moment.  They were getting as decked out as she had ever seen.  In fact, besides the few remaining pouches of protective totems and other usual items, their gear seemed more fitting for the normal S.W.A.T. team than the SCS.

When Ashe collected her standard broadsword and strapped it to her back, Lightning was reminded otherwise.

 _Okay, maybe not_ quite _the S.W.A.T. unit...._

The were off to go raid a vampire nest, after all.

Lightning made sure to collect one of her larger military knives from the weapons rack, and strapped it tightly to her upper left thigh.  As she watched Kimahri heft a large riot shield with his left arm, she had a feeling she would be needing everything at her disposal.

* * *

 

The cobblestone streets of this area of town were unfamiliar to Lightning.  Far too narrow to even drive a simple car through, they had set up base several blocks down in a large alley, and were now being forced to walk through the streets in order to reach their final destination where S.W.A.T. was already set up.

They were in the heart of the Red Light District, where the entire conflict had supposedly started.

Many of the prostitutes began leaning out from their windows and their stoops, cat-calling toward the officers as they progressed down the block.  These people knew that they were not the goal of whatever operation that was about to take place, and so they took advantage of the opportunity to tease and needle the officers.

Some of the men hooted and clapped at Lightning, and their crude but humorous comments made her want to roll her eyes.  She should have known it would have been an adventure doing a sting in the Red Light District.

One particularly buxom lady leaned out over her balcony, exposing some of her rather generous cleavage as she whistled at Lightning. “Leave her alone, boys.  Maybe she’s more interested in a woman’s touch than your clumsy manhandling.”

That made the men shut up at least, though they laughed and crossed their arms.

She gestured toward Lightning. “Well, what do you say, honey?  You’re quite the catch with that gorgeous shade of hair.  I’d love to see if that pretty color matches all over you!  I’ll even waive my usual fee!”

Lightning steadfastly ignored the offer, looking straight ahead as the prostitute called out her disappointment, but after a moment Fang began laughing next to her, raising a suggestive and interested eyebrow. “Well... _do_ you match?”

“Fang...” She hissed under her breath, feeling the heat rise and suffocate her entire face.

There was only more gently amused laughter as Fang actually reached out and lightly patted her burning cheek. “Guess that answers my question.”

There were absolutely no words to even begin describing her current mortification.  Though part of her wanted to clock Fang over the head as hard as she could, it took all of her self control to simply keep marching ahead and try to lower her skyrocketing blood pressure.

Fang, for her part, seemed completely undeterred, and was waved jovially toward one group of women who were calling out to her from the next building over.

The sex workers laughed and applauded when Fang, unlike Lightning, chose to interact and respond to them.

“Ladies, ladies,” Fang called out, waggling her fingers. “There’s more than enough of me to go around!”

Lightning glared daggers at her partner, finally settling on sharply digging an elbow into Fang’s side when her gaze was ignored.

“She’s on the job!” yelled Lightning.

The gaggle of women laughed. “So are we!”

“Well she’s my partner and I need her right now, so try again once I’m dead.” She finished by grabbing Fang’s arm and tugging her close, continuing to ignore the prostitutes as they cooed over how protective the “little one” was.

“Aw...Light...” Fang’s voice was warm and almost...touched?

She tried not to think about it, and instead forced her voice into an angry and low whisper. “Shut it, Fang.”

“My lips are sealed!”

But Lightning saw out of her peripheral that Fang was wearing a pleased smile, and there was touch of color on her own tanned cheeks.

Thankfully, there was no time left for chatter.  They rounded the block and entered the area that had been cordoned off by S.W.A.T.

There were flashing lights and heavily armed officers everywhere, with guns trained on the closed doors and windows to the brothel that they were interested in.

Yaag was already at the scene, and deep in conversation with the commander of operations for S.W.A.T. when he caught sight of his own squad arriving.  He signalled them over briskly.

“...got eyes on every window and door that leads out of that damned whore house.  We’ve got the area locked down.”

Yaag nodded at the man, and then turned toward the SCS. “Approximately ten minutes ago, S.W.A.T. arrived to set up and secure the scene.  Using loudspeakers, they demanded the immediate and unconditional surrender of all and any inhabitants of the brothel.  At that point, the building appeared to have entered a lockdown mode, all windows were immediately closed and boarded or covered with curtains.  As the front door bouncer moved to retreat into the building, officers attempted to apprehend him.  He then revealed his vampiric nature and attacked.  Lethal force was used to subdue him, and no attempts have yet been made to enter the building.”

That’s where they were about to come in.

Yaag gestured to the brothel.

“I have just received clearance for golem backup support if necessary.  They are on their way, but we cannot afford to wait.  The longer we sit, the more time we give those creatures.  You are to enter and clear the nest.  Proceed with extreme caution.  You have been authorized to use full and deadly force, but be aware of the potential for hostage situations what with whatever cattle and thralls may be present.  Do not hesitate and do not let your guard down.  These are vampires, plain and simple, and now that they’ve been discovered, they would sooner kill you than surrender.  One last thing.”

Yaag reached into his long overcoat and then pulled out a tiny skull.  Lightning had no idea what creature the skull had originally come from, with its six eye sockets and pointed little teeth.  The glowing blue flames told her all she needed to know, though.

“I want Cid in the field for this mission, should anything come up that needs his expertise.  Cid, is there any unit you prefer to work with?”

“You can put me with Farron and Fang, Lieutenant.” Even if the skull was small, Cid’s voice still projected at a normal volume.

“Ah, fine...I’ve got some room in my belt,” Fang flipped open one her pouches, and then gingerly took the spirit from Yaag and tucked him into the pocket. “...hope we don’t need him...”

“Are there any questions?” asked Yaag. “No?  Then commence the raid.  Move out!”

“Sir!” They all chorused the call and saluted briefly.

Amodar made a hand motion for the squad to fall in line and approach the barrier that had been set up around the building entrance.  A small pack of C4 had been expertly attached to the door by whatever bomb specialist S.W.A.T. had brought with them.

Amodar spoke softly to one of the technicians near the frontline, and then they all crouched, hands on their guns, and waiting, waiting, waiting.

There was an audible beep, and then the door exploded as the charges were detonated.

“Go!  Go!  Go!”

They jogged through the ruined doorframe and white smoke, in pairs of two and ready for anything.

The lobby was empty, though, devoid of any sign of life or movement.  The client rooms, the waiting rooms, the bathrooms...none of them held anyone, alive or dead, human or vampire.

Which left the backrooms.  There was only one way in and it was through a door marked “Private: Employees Only”.  It was locked, but that was not about to deter them.

They burst through the entrance and into the first of the backrooms, and came upon a scene that Lightning was not fully prepared for.

It was a large and luxuriously decorated red salon, filled with all manner of what she knew immediately where human “cattle” for the vampires to feed on.

There were mostly women, as to be expected in this district, but there were men, too, and girls and boys alike.  It was sickening simply looking at them

All of them were sprawled out on the thick velvety couches and carpets, completely disinterested in the heavily armed officers that were charging in.

Lightning stooped down to shake one of the young women closest to her.  She barely stirred at the touch, turning away in slow, lethargic movements.  As she turned, Lightning caught sight of the familiar puncture wounds on her neck.  They looked fresh.

They were all like that.  Every last person they had come upon in the room was in a nearly catatonic state, uncaring of what was going on around them.  Just what had they been drugged with?

She straightened and heard Amodar already radioing in their findings to Yaag. “...cattle.  No sign of our vamps yet, though...yes.  Roger that, sir.”

He turned around. “Backup will be coming in to handle the victims, but we need to finish clearing the area...and we need to find these vampires, wherever they’ve gone.”

They continued searching the restricted rooms, but to no avail.  The were as empty and desolate as the front rooms, with all the signs that they had been abandoned in a hurry.  The finally ended at the last room, the back office, which provided them no more vampires than anywhere else in the building.

It was an odd room for an office, Lightning decided as they walked in, already lowering their guns.  Though decorated with more gold that what Lightning could ever imagine owning—including a gilded fireplace that still crackled with flaming logs—the space still seemed off.  The back wall seemed strangely barren, and she realized that there were no windows of any kind.  The room seemed more appropriate as a closet or cellar than an office.

“Well what the hell do we do now?”

“Yaag’s gonna be pissed...”

Talk began to break out at their apparent dead end, but Lightning ignored it and continued studying the room.

“The wall!” she said, not bothering to censor herself.

Everyone stopped, and then looked at the back wall.  Kimahri stepped up to it, and then tapped his clawed finger against the surface, testing.  As he moved laterally, the sound changed.

“Hollow,” he confirmed. “There’s something behind here.”

The drywall stood no chance against the ronso as he began taking to it with the heavy butt of his assault gun.  Chunks of plaster and paint fell back to begin revealing a dim stairwell that led down to unknown underground depths.

As the fake wall was taken down, Lightning continued to walk with Fang slowly around the room, taking the time to look at more of the flamboyant wealth that was on such extravagant display.  There was no doubt about the authenticity of the precious metals and gemstones that were seated on the fireplace mantle.

“Something else, huh?” Fang’s voice was impressed, but tinged with disgust as well, and Lightning understood the sentiment.

“All this money, owned by all of these vampire scum...” Fang’s eyes rested on a bejeweled candelabra that sat on the mantle.  It shone to a bright polish in the light.

A bad feeling grew in the pit of Lightning’s stomach as Fang reached out to grab the candelabra.

“Fang!  Wait!  Don’t touch—”

Lightning reached in to pull Fang’s arm back, but her partner had already grabbed the item.  Rather than coming off the mantle, though, it lurched forward like a lever, and they both had a moment to share a look of sheer panic before the stone floor of the fireplace suddenly dropped out beneath them, and they were thrown downward into a dark a twisting tunnel slide, unable to do anything as they picked up momentum and speed.

They landed in a sprawling heap onto a cold and dank floor, their limbs entangled and their guns all thankfully switched with their safety locks on.

“Uhhh...”

Lightning groaned, and heard Fang do the same.  Fang had landed mostly beneath her, taking the brunt of their crash.

Once she had effectively gotten up and off of her partner, Lightning held out a hand to pull Fang upright.

“You okay?”

Fang waved away the concern, smoothing her hair back into some semblance of order. “Yeah, yeah.  Just got a bit of a surprise.  You?”

Lightning nodded her head and checked her shotgun.  It had survived the fall better than she had. “Same.  Fine otherwise.  But...where are we?”

Both of them looked around.  They had landed in fairly nondescript room, with concrete walls, concrete floors, concrete ceilings, and an open door a the far end that seemed to lead down a long tunnel.

Suddenly, there was a rough and grating sound, like rock being dragged against rock, and a heavy concrete panel slid into place, blocking the slide exit that they had come from.

Fang leapt toward it, but it was too late.

Her fist hit the blockade, giving off a low thump.  She repeatedly pounded the slab, but it was of no use.  It would not give, even before Fang’s strength.

Lightning tried her comm. device on both shortwave and longwave, but it was a mess of static, unable to break through the thick walls that trapped them underground.

“Fang?” She asked, but the heavy shake of her partner’s head already indicated what she knew.  Both of their radios were useless.  They had been cut off.

Fang gave one last futile pound against the wall that had slid into place.

“No use.  Light...we’re stuck.”

Both of them gave their surroundings a much more investigative one-over.

“...I have no fucking clue,” admitted Fang in a huff. “I think...maybe we should ask Cid.”

Of course!  Lightning had completely forgotten about him.

In a moment, Fang was pulling the tiny skull he inhabited out of a belt pouch.

“Hey!  Sleepy head!  Wake up...we need your opinion.”

All six eye sockets immediately began to burn with a blue fire.

“I’m here.  What do you need?”

“Well...we seem to have taken a little tumble.”

They explained their situation quickly, and Fang turned about so that Cid could see the whole of their plain room from his small host body.

Lightning prodded cautiously when he was not immediately forthcoming. “Well, what do you think?”

Cid made a thoughtful sound.

“It appears as though we’re in some of the lost bunkers from the Old War.  Thick, underground, relatively bomb-proof...yes...that’s most assuredly where we are, which would also explain why your comm. devices cut out.  Very clever of them...”

“Cid!” yelled Fang. “What are we supposed to _do_ about it?  We need to connect back up with the rest of the squad.”

“Patience.  I can attempt to amplify one of your comm. devices if you so wish.  It may have mixed results, and I can’t promise how long it will last, but it is the most I can offer at the moment.”

Lightning shrugged and looked at Fang. “What other choice do we have?”

That was the unfortunate truth.

Fang pulled out her comm. device and switched it to speaker mode, holding it in her hand next to the skull. “Alright, Cid, let’s see you work your magic.”

The spirit’s eyes blazed and flamed, growing larger and more pronounced as he focused on the small piece of machinery.

Fang cleared her voice, and then gave it a shot.

“Hello?  This is Fang and Lightning.  Does anyone copy?”

The static hissed, and then broke.

_“Fang!  Farron!  Wher...re...you?”_

Lightning answered.

“We’re caught in the old bunker system underground.  Looks like the vampires have been using it as their base of operations.  But we can’t get back up the way we got dumped in.  The path continues further in on our end...but...”

She trailed off, letting the rest go unsaid.  They had no idea to where, and what, it might lead.

The silence dragged on long enough that for a moment Lightning worried they had lost their connection again.  Then Amodar finally spoke again.

_“We’re going in from our opening here...Yaag’s already ca...led golems for backup.  We’ll try....get to you as soo.......possible.  You have permission to proceed if you choose, but do so with extreme prejudice and caution.  Make sure...stay....and in one...”_

Their link fizzled into static hissing and then, with a screech of ear-jarring feedback, the comm. device sparked and went dead.

Cid’s eyes died back down to a more of a low ember.

“I apologize,” he said. “The amplification strain was too much on the machinery.  We can use Farron’s if you wish to try and reestablish a link?”

Fang shook her head, tossing aside the smoking and useless piece of equipment. “Don’t know how much good it would do us.  Cid?”

“Ah, yes.  I’ll be right here if you need me for anything.”

Fang stowed away the miniature skull back into a utility pocket before turning to Lightning. “All set for an adventure?”

Lightning shrugged and rechecked the magazine in her shotgun. “Ladies first.”

That earned her a chuckle. “And always so polite, too!  Who said chivalry was dead?”

The playful banter continued as they moved into the long hallway that was off of their room, fading into silence only once they were a solid way down the corridor.

It was quiet here, with only the sound of slow-dripping water and their soft steps as they cautiously and systematically made their way to the next stop in the forgotten bunker.  Fang suddenly slowed, signalling to Lightning that something of interest was ahead, and to maintain their silence.

Lightning took a few steps, coming up even with Fang, and squinted ahead.  At the end of the tunnel about a hundred yards down was a partially ajar door, with yellow light spilling out of it.

She turned back toward Fang, and they nodded to one another simultaneously, cocking their guns and approaching as slowly as necessary in order to keep their stealth.

They heard the sounds of movement within the room, the creak of a chair, footsteps, and then voices...harsh and cruel and discussing the safety of the nest and the need to throw off the human police.

Struck with sudden inspiration, Lightning motioned to Fang, pointing down with her hand at the set of frag grenades on their respective belts.

Fang smiled and then nodded for her to make the move.

The grenade nestled perfectly in her palm, and Lightning pulled the pin from it easily.

She did a silent count to three in her head, and then chucked the explosive in.

“...the fuck is...shit!”

A thunderous boom rocked through the floor, and the concussion blast knocked the door wide open while animalistic screeches of pain erupted from within the room.  Fang darted in first, already spraying a tight cone of bullets on what survivors there were.

Lightning followed a half-step behind her, her shotgun cocked and ready.  Three of the four men were on the ground, and she finished the standing one with a quick blow.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the bodies twitching still.

_Not entirely dead yet, I guess..._

Suddenly, the man ripped up from the floor, shrieking as black blood dripped from his shrapnel wounds.  Lightning was momentarily horrified by its appearance.  She had _never_ heard or seen of a grenade doing _that_ before.  Then she realized that as the vampire leapt up, its skin wasn’t just wounded from the grenade—it was completely sloughing off, revealing not muscle and blood beneath, but a thick and leathery dark hide.

A monster born of nightmares erupted from the human flesh, with membranous batwings, glowing red eyes, and thick black claws that reached out from its hands and feet.

She reacted on instinct, blowing the load of her shotgun instantly into its squished and bestial face. 

The creature dropped to the floor only a few feet from her, pieces of bone and brain scattered from the force and close proximity of the shot.

It took too long for Lightning to jump start her mind back into working order

“The fuck was that!” she finally yelled.  Her heart was racing.  The creature hadn’t been human, it had been a monster.

Fang shook her head and spat to the side, prodding the corpse with the toe of one boot. “That’s the Hunger form—their _real_ form.  Fucking devils...good on you, though, Light.”

Lightning repressed a shudder.  She had known that vampires had a true form below their flesh mask.  She’d been told that.  But being told what to expect and actually seeing it were two different things.  The body before her had seemed human enough at first, but then it had tossed off its “skin” like a dog shaking off water to reveal the monstrosity within.

This was what they were going to be dealing with.

“Expect more where that came from,” said Fang. “Bastards keep their human forms to blend in, but we’re fully on their territory now, so I doubt they’ll hold any qualms about transforming.  Just keep on guard.  We can handle it.”

That much was true, and Lightning felt calmer with the knowledge.  In their Hunger forms, the vampires certainly seemed stronger and faster than when in human skin, but it was not by an inhuman gap.  They were still very mortal.  Lightning and Fang had already shown as much.  And now she knew what to expect.

They reloaded their weapons and checked the room one last time.  A door on the opposite end continued further into the bunker.

“Well,” asked Lightning. “Shall we?”

“After you!”

Lightning rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

They encountered two more vampires down the next hallway, but made quick work of them before they could even think of transforming.

It was only once they reached the next room of the creatures that trouble struck. 

Fang went in first, tearing up what targets she could as the vampires dove and scattered, many beginning to change into their Hunger.  Lightning provided cover by the wooden table near where they had entered, taking precise, sniping shots as she could.

There was something off, though, something about how those vampires who had managed to avoid the initial assault were readjusting.

Lightning suddenly realized what was happening.  As Fang was tearing into the vampires with an inhuman ferocity, those that were remaining were reorganizing, and turning their attention...toward Lightning.

They were targeting her, and with her two-shell shotgun and limited reload time, that meant she had problems.

“Fang!” yelled Lightning. “Help!”

Fang finished her current kill and bolted back, but the counterattack was already in progress.

Lightning aimed her first lethal shot directly into the chest of the closest vampire, and the force of it threw him backward.  The two other remaining oddities were already mostly transformed into their Hunger states, and Lightning felt her stomach clench as they launched toward her.

She evaded the first swipe, blocked with the barrel of her shotgun and then cracking the offending creature across the skull with the solid butt of her gun.  She only vaguely heard Fang as the woman charged in to finish off that vampire; Lightning was already wrenching her herself back around to face the last enemy.

But she was a moment too slow.

He snatched at her, and while Lightning managed to bat off the clawed hands, the creature did the unexpected, slamming its mouth down to crunch on her upper arm like a dog would to a bone.  Needle sharp teeth punctured through fabric with ease, greedily biting into her muscle.

She let out an involuntary cry at the pain then, but was already bringing around her shotgun to hit the vampire as hard as she could.  Yet there was no need.

In an instant, the vampire was ripped back from her, seized by a superhuman grip.  Fang nearly roared with anger as she pulled it back.  She slammed it into the thick concrete wall with enough force to cause cracks to spider outward.

There was another loud thud followed by a scream from the vampire as Fang mercilessly slammed her armored elbow up into the creature’s jaw, sending black blood splatters everywhere.

Then there was the sound of a single gunshot, and the screaming abruptly stopped.

She heard the body slump to the ground, and then in an instant Fang was by her side.

“Light!  Light...shit...I’m so sorry.  I should have been paying attention more.  I charged in too deep, let them pull around the back.  Fuck...”

“Fang!” Lightning cut her off. “It’s not your fault, I should have stuck closer...should have said something sooner.  That’s my job at rearguard.”

Fang reluctantly nodded, but Lightning saw a tightness around her eyes. “How bad is it?”

She looked down at her arm and the tattered bit of cloth there, skin and blood visible below the fabric and the very distinctive bite imprint.

_Stupid.  So stupid..._

If she had been paying more attention to their movements, she would have seen the change in attack pattern sooner.  Instead now she was injured, both her and Fang cut off from the rest of the squad, with who knew how many more vampires waiting between them and their way out.

“Look, no...it’s not even really bleeding that much,” she pointed out.  And it was true.  The wound was barely at a drip now.  She’d gotten lucky that the vampire hadn’t managed a deeper bite into her.

Fang persisted for a moment. “If you’re sure...”

“Yes,” said Lightning, protesting. “I’m fine.  Just give me a second.”

That was all she needed, just a second to clear her thoughts.  The inside of her head felt like it was slowly being stirred and swirled about.  But just thinking about it made her feel slightly nauseous, and she threw a hand out to steady herself against the table.

“A bit forward, aren’t we?”

She looked up, now catching the playful teasing in Fang’s voice.

Her hand was not on the hard wood of the table, but plastered against Fang’s kevlar vest, exactly over where the swell of one breast would be, were it not for the thick material.

Lightning stared for a very long moment and felt the heat rise through her torso and to the crown of her head.  There was no need for a mirror to tell her that her face had achieved a nearly improbable shade of scarlet.  She flailed backward, embarrassment flooding her system as she tried to stammer out an apology and regain her bearings.

Instead, however, the world twisted and spun, and she would have fallen.  Hands snaked out to grab her, pulling her in close and then gently descending to the floor with her.  Her nostrils filled with a fragrant and pleasing scent of shampoo, and it was only as she was seated on the floor that she realized Fang had caught her, and that she was leaning into her partner’s neck still even though they were no longer standing.

“...ight!  Light!  Stay with me!  Come on now!”

“Wha...what’s going on?” she asked, trying to focus on Fang’s face, but only seeing double.

“Shit!  _Shit!_ ”

There was then the sound of muffled yelling coming from one of Fang’s utility pouches. “Let me out!  Yun Fang!  Let me see her.”

“Goddammit, fine!  Hold on one bloody second...”

A moment later and then the double-image of a tiny skull with blue fire for eyes was placed centrally in Lightning’s vision.

Lightning could feel the gaze traveling over her, from her face to her arm and then back to her face.

“It’s vampire saliva,” explained Cid finally, the skull chattering as he spoke. “When you were gouged there on your upper arm, the vampire must have dosed you with saliva instead of just biting.”

Lightning crinkled her nose.  _Eww..._

“Well?” Fang’s voice was worried. “Is it poisonous?”

Cid cut off that fear before it could potentially snowball. “Hardly.  Vampire saliva is the reason why those overgrown monsters are able to enthrall so easily.  The saliva acts like a drug, akin to more of an opiate.  It strongly sedates the cattle target, but is also highly addictive, which is why victims can become so quickly enthralled.”

Lightning swallowed heavily.  She could feel her sluggish pulse and the overwhelming desire to simply lay there and just...rest.

“How long until it wears off?”

Cid eyes flickered to Lightning as he answered Fang’s question. “You’d be waiting at least an hour, likely more depending on how badly she was dosed.

Lightning was vaguely aware of Fang cursing vehemently above her.

“Wait!” Cid’s voice cracked like a whip. “There is another option.”

The ghostly blue eyes focused in on her. “Farron...If you let me possess your body, then I can burn out the saliva.  It won’t be immediate—I will need to possess you for at least ten to twenty minutes, but I can do it.  And I can probably heal up that wound in the meantime as well.”

“No...I...I don’t want...”

Formulating words was more of a struggle than what it should have been, but even through her befuddled haze, she felt the rising panic at the thought of being possessed.

Fang spoke. “Cid, if she doesn’t—”

“You don’t have any other options, Fang,” he spoke severely, but not without some measure of understanding. “You know that as much as I do.”

Lightning could see the troubled conflict apparent on Fang’s face, but felt relieved when her partner held ground.

“Only if Light agrees, Cid.  _Only_ on her word.”

Which brought the issue straight back to Lightning.  She knew the truth of what Cid had said.  They _didn’t_ have any other options.  If they waited, they were likely to be attacked again, and Lightning would be of no use.  If they tried to keep moving, Lightning would be of no use.  If anything, she would only be a target to further endanger Fang. 

But...possession...?

“Farron, I thrice-swear to you on my true name, I will not betray your trust.  I owe you a life debt.” Cid’s voice was sincere, intent on reaching through to her. “Let me repay it to you.”

“I...will I be okay?”

There was a momentary pause.

“I promise to take good care of your body, Farron, you have my word.  And I promise to release it to you once my duty if fulfilled.”

Lightning had a moment to realize that Cid wasn’t saying those words because he _had_ to, but because he wanted to reassure her, and that calmed her.  Somewhat.

It was now or never.

Her tongue felt fat and dry in her mouth. “Okay...let’s do this.”

Lightning looked directly into the flaming eye sockets of Cid’s skull, and found herself unable to blink, unable to tear her gaze away from the mesmerizing blue lights.  The blue grew and grew, until it drowned out all else, and the color consumed her in a bright flash.

She blinked rapidly then, chasing away the flickering afterlights from her vision, and found that she was no longer in herself, no longer looking through her eyes.

She was floating in the air of the room, and there below her view sat her body, Fang crouched over her and still holding the skull, the blue lights that signified Cid’s presence now completely gone from it.

_What...?_

_I see you automatically jumped to an incorporeal state._

Lightning jerked—or, well, she would have were she still in her physical body.  Now floating in the air next to her was a vaguely humanoid outline of blue fire, speaking with Cid’s familiar voice.  Fang seemed to be aware of neither of them.

 _What’s going on?_ Lightning asked.

Cid’s spirit pointed down at her body. _That is your physical form.  You spirit instinctively jumped out into its incorporeal form when I possessed you._

_I...see._

She looked around the room.  It was certainly a different perspective than normal.

 _Come_ , beckoned Cid. _You can rejoin me within your body.  Besides, it will be safer for your spirit to remain within your physical vessel rather than to wander this plain._

Lightning looked down at her body, unsure of just _how_ to do that, but Cid seemed to sense her uncertainty.

_For all intents and purposes, simply imagine “jumping” back in._

She focused on her body, imagined running and jumping back into it.

A moment later she was in her physical form again, but it was like being in the backseat of a car; she could see what was going on, but had no control over it.

Cid was in the driver’s seat.

Her eyes fluttered open.

“Lightning?” asked Fang.

Lightning knew without even asking that her eyes were a complete and fiery blue, solid and with no hint of white or of pupil.

“She is still here, but this is Cid.” Her throat moved, and it was her voice that spoke, but yet it wasn’t her.  She felt Cid tapping into her vocal cords, using her body while she sat back and watched, aware but separate. “It is easier for the moment if I assume direct control of her physical form.”

Cid raised a hand—her hand—to placate a clearly suspicious Fang. “I have given my thrice-sworn word.  I would never break it.  Ever.”

“Alright,” agreed Fang, though her eyes remained narrowed. “Are you ready to keep going?”

“Very much so.”

Fang nodded, and they set off down the next corridor until they reached a thick and firmly closed oaken door. 

Fang shrugged. “So much for the way of stealth.”

Then she launched a heavy kick, and the door splintered inward and apart.

This room was larger than any of the prior ones, with arched pillars located throughout it, a great and archaic gargoyle statue at the far end, and countless rows of armor, straw dummies, and nearly any and every medieval weapon that Lightning could think of, plus many more.

They were clearly in the armory, and they were not alone.

Six sets of heads turned to stare at them, and in the space as they stared silently back, Lightning heard Fang mutter under her breath.

“...damn it...”

Everyone leapt into action at the same moment in a rush of bodies and gunfire.  Cid and Fang both had the sense to pick off the few who had guns, but the remainder closed the distance to engage them in melee combat.

They ran in, dangerously quick, but Cid responded in kind, using Lightning’s body as his vessel.

Her body moved—and how it moved!

She was a blur of motion, taking even the vampires off guard as she darted and weaved and began to shoot them down even as they dodged and ran. 

A loud cracking drew her attention, and Cid turned to look around at the gargoyle statue on the far side of the room just as it sprang to life.

“Fang!” he yelled out, using Lightning’s voice. “I can manage the gargoyle.  Can you take care of the rest of these scum?”

A harsh and brutal laugh was the response. “You know it!” 

A loud roar echoed through the air as the gargoyle set its sights on them and began stomping forward.

One, two, three...Cid shot and shot again at the stone guardian until there was no ammunition left, but it was with limited effect.  The beast had closed the distance, and was already rearing back to attack.

With the shells spent and no time to reload, Cid opted to throw the shotgun at the gargoyle’s face, stunning the creature for a short second while he pulled out the Sig with one hand and Lightning’s thigh-strapped dagger with the other.

Then, in what Lightning was sure was a madman’s suicide run, he charged with her body, dropping to the floor at the last second in front of the monster.

Her body slid in perfect timing between the gargoyles massive legs, and then stopped on a dime, ripping around on her legs to drive the blade of her dagger deep into the unprotected knee tissue of the gargoyle.

The creature roared in a mix of pain and rage, dropping from its feet.  Cid had already pulled Lightning’s body to its feet, and before the gargoyle could turn and retaliate, he was pumping three shots from the handgun directly into the back of the beast’s head.

There was no time to admire the handiwork.

Fang had taken care of most of the vampires while Cid had been handling the gargoyle, but another wave of attackers was flooding back into the armory, all of them carrying rather sharp and lethal-looking weapons on them.

And she was out of ammo.

Cid turned her head toward the nearby wall of weapons.  Her vision moved dismissively over the set of glaives and other polearms, and instead honed in on the section of impeccably tended swords.

Cid selected not the great claymore or the flashy flamberge, but one of the smaller blades, thick and curved, like some strange child of a machete and scimitar.

 _Cusped falchion,_ remarked Cid, supplying Lightning with the information even as he snatched the sword from its place and twirled back around. _Much better for this kind of close quarter combat._

And Lightning saw why after a moment.

The shorter blade had a maneuverability that could never be matched by anything as long and slow-moving as a claymore.

The lead vampire charged at her/Cid with a heavy mace in hand, and Cid handled it as though it were child’s play.  Her body smoothly sidestepped the first wild swing of the mace, then did so again a second time, and a third.

Cid then abruptly reversed the grip on her hand and promptly slammed the heavy pommel of the falchion downward and over the vampire’s wrist, resulting in a heavy crack that Lightning recognized as the sound of breaking bone.

The creature howled in pain as he dropped the mace, and then swiped with his other hand, claws outstretched and skin already peeling away as his true vampiric form took over. 

It was too little too late.

Cid was already ducking her body, batting away the the seemingly feeble strike with the flat of the blade before driving in an upward slash with enough force behind it to almost completely sever the half-transformed head.

And then he was moving on the next target, repeating the same skillful and lethal dance until both he and Fang had completely disposed of the second wave of attackers.

 _Cid can do all of_ this _with my simple, human body?_

The thought was dizzying.

Then Cid’s voice boomed into her musings.

 _It is_ your _body, Farron, not mine._

 _But..._ she protested automatically. 

_I am simple tapping into some yet unused potential that your body possesses.  Nonetheless, that potential is all within you.  You have simply yet to fully harness it._

There was a pause, and then his voice returned, slightly remorseful.

_I do apologize preemptively, though.  Your ligaments and muscles will not be used to this level of physical manipulation and strain, and I do not doubt that you will feel the aftereffects come tomorrow._

Lovely.

Silence was the indicator that they had won for the moment.  The quiet of the armory was punctuated only by the heavy breathing of both her and Fang.

Cid, however, wasted no time standing around.

“We should change into more suitable armor,” he advised to Fang.  Even from within her own head, Lightning thought her voice sounded almost flat, with none of the inflection or tone she would normally put into it. “Our enemies seem to have abandoned firearms in these close quarters in favor of more...traditional...killing methods.”

He then also dropped the emptied Sig Sauer. “I would also recommend taking the opportunity to pick up a more suitable weapon, unless you have further stores of ammunition on you.”

“...decisions, decisions...” murmured Fang, approaching the weapons wall with one hand tucked thoughtfully under her chin.

In the meantime, Cid tossed aside the kevlar vest that had adorned her, reaching for a set of shining chainmail to replace it with.  It was shrugged on over her shoulders with a practiced ease, and then joined by plated vambraces on her forearms.  He tried several different helms before giving up—they were all far too large on her head, and would be more of a nuisance than anything else.

Lightning floated back up above her body for a brief second, shaking her head at the comical mix of modern and medieval that her figure now cut.  Cid, however, seemed completely unbothered by it, and while Lightning caught the smirk of humor on her partner’s face, Fang still followed suit, abandoning her kevlar in favor of a few choice pieces of boiled leather and plate armor.

As Lightning surged into the back corner of her own mind and body again, she saw that Fang had also chosen a weapon finally—one of the polearms, a partizan.

If either Fang or Cid thought anything of the long weapon being an issue while fighting indoors, though, neither voiced it, which surprised Lightning.  She’d never seen Fang truly fight with any hand-to-hand weapons; polearms surely had to be her specialty if Cid wasn’t commenting on it.  At the very least, she was fairly certain that now she would have a chance to see Fang display her skills in action.

And she did.  To great effect.

It was messy work, clearing through the rooms of vampires using only close combat weapons, but it worked.  Cid moved her with a perfect and flawless control, and for all that Fang was wielding a spear, she seemed to have no problems maneuvering in the cramped underground space, skewering any vampire unfortunate enough to try and challenge her.

No, Fang was not as fast or as agile as what Lightning was with Cid directing her, but what Fang’s body lacked in speed, it made up for in sheer strength.  Even the fully transformed Hungers seemed to be no match against her, and Lightning was silently and deeply impressed.

Perhaps it _was_ better that she sparred with Ashe rather than with Fang.

Cid suddenly called for Fang to stop after they had cleared out yet another room of the unholy creatures.

“What’s up?” asked Fang.

“It’s done.  I have finished metabolizing the saliva, and have managed to heal over most of the wound.”

 _Your body is ready for you again,_ he said to Lightning. _The wound is not perfect, but it should hold unless you take a direct blow to it._

_I..._

_Thank you for trust in me, Farron.  I hope that I did not abuse it._

Then, her mind suddenly felt alone, and she realized she could no longer float outside of her body.  She felt...in control.

She opened her eyes— _Lightning_ opened her _own_ eyes—and took in the world around her for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, and looked down at herself.

She held the hilt of the cusped falchion tightly and comfortably in her right hand, the oiled leather grip pressing warmly into her gloved palm.  Thick and black blood dripped down the length of the blade, and she became aware that her clothing and armor were splattered with it; drying flecks even decorated her face and stray bits of her hair.

She tilted the flat of the falchion blade, caught a glimmer of her reflection.

 _I look like a killing machine_ , she mused briefly.

She certainly didn’t _feel_ like that.  She felt grimy and disgusting and in intense need of a long bath, if not two.

“Lightning?”

Fang’s voice was questioning and unsure, and Lightning turned around to face her partner.  She was holding her partizan in one hand, and Cid’s small skull in the other.

“Yes?”

The breath left Fang’s lungs heavily as she smiled, clearly having taken in the fact that Lightning’s eyes were now back to to their normal state, no longer the bright blue blazes that signified possession.

“How are you?”

It took Lightning a moment to understand that Fang was asking about the toxin.  She turned her head around, flexed the grip on the falchion and twirled it experimentally.  She already had the itching feeling that told her tomorrow was going to feel like hell for her joints and muscles...but in the meantime...

“Great, actually,” she admitted.  There wasn’t even in the faintest hint of lethargy left in her.  Whatever Cid had done, he had done it damnably well.  The vampire saliva really was good and well burnt out of her system.

“Cid...” she turned toward the skull that Fang still held, where the familiar ghostly lights flickered weakly into life. “Thank you.  I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“I have paid my debts.  It was my pleasure, Lightning Farron.” His voice sounded faint. “Now I’m afraid I’m quite tapped out for the time being.  I need to rest.  Please only get me if it’s an emergency.”

The fires snapped and then disappeared as Cid went dormant.

“You ready to keep going?”

Lightning flexed her arm and swung the falchion once, experimentally.  It felt good in her hand, familiar and easy.

“Ready when you are.”

As they progressed, she followed in the same motions that Cid had used while possessing her—motions that were not all that different from what she had practiced with rubber training rods during her early morning sessions with Ashe.

Her strikes were not quite so unearthly fast as Cid’s, but they were quick enough, and they were still as brutally effective.  She might be human again, but she was far from helpless.

The tunnels grew wider and less dank as they made headway, until the reached a crossroads, left with three different paths by which to pursue.

Lightning had no idea which way to go.  She turned toward Fang. “Should we ask Cid wh—”

“Wait.” Fang put her hand up in a wordless askance for silence. “Listen.”

Lightning acquiesced, but as much as she strained her ears, she could hear nothing beyond their own breathing and the occasional drip of water.  Whatever Fang could hear was beyond her own skill.

Suddenly, Fang straightened, and an excited grin broke out across her face. “I know that voice anywhere!  Come on, Light, this way!”

Fang took off in a run down the tunnel to their right, making no effort to stay quiet as Lightning struggled to catch up.

_A voice she knows?  Does that mean...?_

Her expectations were rewarded when they burst into the remnants of a battle scene at the end of their hallway, and were greeted by a set of faces that Lightning had never been happier to see.

Amodar, Kimahri, Ashe and Rygdea all stood over the remains of their vampire enemies, with a set of granite-class golems at their sides.

“Fang!  Farron!  You both look...hale.”

Lightning traded glances with Fang, and they both shrugged even as they smiled, making Lightning’s chainmail jingle.

“We took a bit of a detour,” explained Fang. “Through an armory.”

“That I can see,” said Amodar, and Lightning could hear the underlying humor in his voice. “I’m just glad to see you both fit and in one piece.  Spirits know that the captain’s already going to have my head for this turn of events...”

“You were injured.” Kimahri said it as a statement rather than a question, his eyes alighting on Lightning’s left shoulder, and she felt her squadmates all focus on her.

“It’s nothing,” Lightning responded quickly.  And it was the truth.  She didn’t need to get held back because of it, not here and now. “And Cid took care of it for me anyway.”

“Cid?  Then he—”

Fang came to her rescue. “Things got a bit dicey, so Light agreed to let Cid possess her for a bit...heal over the wound.  It worked out for the best,” she patted her utility belt. “And I’ve still got Cid here with me.  He’s just in his hibernation mode, or whatever you call it.”

Amodar nodded, still looking over Lightning and eyeing her shoulder. “No doubt.  Are you alright to continue, Farron?  We have S.W.A.T. following us in to clean up our trail, so we can easily—”

“I’m fine, sir,” she said.

Their field leader met her eyes, then nodded. “Then let’s get you two up to speed.”

They gathered around into a loose huddle, the golems remaining patiently unmoving at their backs.

“As you’ve no doubt realized by now, this bunker serves as the actual active nest site for the vampires; the brothel is simple a surface front.  We are dealing with what is a far more organized and institutionalized nest than I think anyone predicted.  This nest has been in place for a _long_ time, and we need to burn it out now.” Amodar paused to swallow. “As I said, we have S.W.A.T. coming through after us to finish the clean out job, but we’re serving as the vanguard right now—with golem backup, thank the wizards for that.  Our primary objective right now is to locate the heart of the nest and to exterminate any elder vampires or any Matriarch that may be present.  Let’s hope that we get off lightly.”

Lightning nodded.  It made sense.

“Based on the the map intel we currently have, we believe the heart should be coming up shortly.  We should be close to reaching the end of this bunker system, and the heart of the nest is most likely set in one of the large supply chambers at the back of the bunker.  Any questions?”

Lightning shook her head, and saw Fang do the same.

“Good.  You two work alongside the second wave of golems for now.  Give yourselves a breather and let these rock monsters do some work for you.”

And they were more than happy to oblige.

With the golems on hand, clearing their way through the bunker became almost painfully simple.  More and more, the vampires in their way opted to try and flee further back in, rather than face down the assault, at least until they reached the heart of the nest.

They had been moving so quickly that perhaps they had charged in with a bit too much recklessness, but when they tore through the large door that led into one of the main supply chambers, they knew immediately that they had reached their destination.

It was large and spherical room, probably intended as a supply area during the original bunker designs, but now converted to a different purpose.

Large concentric circles had been grooved into the floor, connected by various channels and all flowing with a dark liquid that Lightning knew had to be blood.  In the very center stood a woman, or what appeared to be a woman.  She was more than beautiful; she was gorgeous, with pale skin, shining black hair, and a generous figure.

She also had her mouth fastened to the neck of the limp and nearly lifeless human that she held in her arms, and Lightning could see the red glow of her eyes as she looked up at them, not even bothering to pause in her feeding.

All around the rest of the room, though, were a slew of vampires, most of them in Hunger form, and many of them finishing off their own cattle.  The nest attacked in a wave of hellish screams, which the golems met head on in a crunch of bone and rock.

Lightning adjusted her sword grip, and prepared to enter the fray with Fang.

That was when the vampire in the center finished draining its victim.  It dropped the dried out corpse, smiling as a trail of blood dripped from its mouth, and then it shrieked.  The sound echoed through the closed concrete room, and Lightning felt her muscles freeze against her will, a deep-seated fear rising from within her stomach and clouding her thoughts.  She had only enough presence of mind to abruptly understand that she was under a psychic assault.

“It’s a Matriarch!”

Some yelled it out—a man.  It was enough to free her muscle movement again, though she knew that without the golems to continue the attack against the other vampires, she would likely be dead already.

“Quickly!” Lightning couldn’t even identify who was talking to her anymore. “The totems!  Everyone use your totems!”

Somehow, through some sheer force of will, Lightning was able to pull out her pendant of Etro from beneath her chainmail shirt, holding it out in her left hand the same as her squadmates were.  Even just touching it seemed to ease the oppressive attack on her mind, allowing her to think more clearly.  She remembered what she needed to do.

Her thoughts focused on the Goddess Beyond the Void, through whose Gate all souls would someday pass.  Lightning was not the most studiously religious of individuals, but Yaag had originally said that didn’t matter.  As long as she believed in what she was invoking, that was what counted.  She knew how real the gods were, and Etro was no exception.

The pendent burst into bright light within her hand, shining like a small beacon alongside five similar lights held by the rest of the SCS, and breaking through the mental attack that had been launched at them.

Under their combined light, the vampire Matriarch screamed, and the “human” appearance immediately burnt away in cloud of black smoke to reveal its Hunger form, far more advanced than any of the others that Lightning had seen thus far.

The Matriarch,  though not as physically large as some of the others they had encountered, had thick, almost plate-like segments of armored hide instead of the simple leathery skin.  Double wings sprouted from its back, and two small horns protruded from the top of its bald head.

The whole of the Matriarch’s eyes were a glowing red, which it turned to glare viciously upon them.  It hissed, and the lights from all of their totems flickered and nearly extinguished.  The Matriarch threw out one clawed hand toward a golem, and the animated stone creature exploded in a burst of granite shards and marble dust.

“Open fire!”

Amodar’s command was followed by all of those who still had guns, leaving Fang and Lightning watching as the slew of bullets launched toward the vampire and seemed to nothing more but inflict mild discomfort.

“It’s no use!  We can’t penetrate the armor!”

That was Ashe, and she was already dropping her gun in favor of pulling out her broadsword.  Amodar held her back, though.

“No!  Hold a second longer!  Rygdea, now!”

There was a sound reminiscent to a plane going supersonic, and Lightning automatically flinched alongside everyone else at the amplified niose of the sniper shot.  The Matriarch, however, was thrown backward screeching.  It quickly righted itself, but the large and thick plate of skin armor on its chest was now severely fractured and damaged, with the massive bullet from the sniper gun compacted and embedded deep into the skin.

“Now!” roared Amodar. “Ashe, Fang, Farron...go in!  We’ll provide cover and finish off the others!”

Lightning didn’t spare a second, regripping her falchion and charging in toward the pained and enraged Matriarch alongside Fang.  Ashe reached the vampire a half-second before either of them, and Lightning noted with interest that her silver broadsword seemed to be emitting light, a stream of small runes flowing across the surface.  Her first attack was easily parried by the Matriarch, which then backhanded away Ashe before turning its attention toward Lightning and Fang.

They circled the Matriarch warily, testing and trading blows, trying to make a fatal hit while avoiding the vicious counterattacks.  It was hard enough work just to keep even footing on the bloodied stone.

With her short blade, Lightning quickly began to feel useless.  Fang and Ashe both were able to poke and prod more, taking turns at trying to land a solid hit and distract the Matriarch.  The reach of the falchion simply couldn’t compare to the partizan or even the broadsword.  She matched her squadmates in the dance of trying to lure out the Matriarch toward one of them so that another could take a stab at the damaged chest armor.  

Each attempt was met with the failed clang of steel against the more intact plate segments, and with each failure, Lightning felt her frustration grow.  The Matriarch let out a howl, and the blaze from their totems dimmed further.

 _Shit_.

Lightning shrugged off the creeping feeling of panic again.  The longer they drew this out, the worse things were going to get.

Getting in close might mean greater physical danger, but what choices did they have?

She didn’t hesitate as she moved in.

“Light!”

She ducked under one swipe, dodged the second, deflected a third, and felt a fourth scrape across her protective chainlinks, easily cutting into the metal.

She knew the next attack was coming, but now was her opportunity.  She had to act, and give her squadmates the opportunity to end it.

Lightning reversed her grip and bashed at the vampire’s damaged breastplate with the pommel of her falchion.  Though the blow rang through her arm, it struck true.  The protective layer of the Matriarch shattered apart to reveal the soft and vulnerable tissue beneath.  She only barely brought her blade back up in time to partially block a direct strike from the vampire.  Even so, the force of the superhuman blow sent her sprawling backwards onto the concrete

“I’m okay!” she yelled out immediately. “Finish it!”

There was no need for her to say so, though.

Ashe had closed in for the final strike.

Her broadsword now blazed like a second sun within her hands, and Lightning found herself mesmerized as the blade was drawn high into the air.

Then the valkyrie drove her sword directly down into the exposed chest of the Matriarch, quenching the radiance of her sword into the dark body of the vampire.  The monster screamed as streaks of golden light appeared across its skin, growing larger and more prominent.  Then, in a burst of blinding phosphorescence, the Matriarch succumbed to Ashe’s attack in an inhuman shriek of agony.

When Lightning was finally able to clear the spots from her eyes, Ashe was already resheathing her weapon with a professional ease, and all that remained of the vampire Matriarch was a large pile of gray ash on the floor.

“It is done,” intoned Ashe, and then she turned to walk back toward Kimahri even as Amodar walked up to join them in the center of the room.

Lightning was about to follow Ashe, but stopped, her eye caught by something glittering in the ashes.  She bent down, and from the remains she pulled out a tarnished silver coin.  It was clearly very old, and Lightning handled it carefully in her riot gloves, though it seemed more than sturdy.  On one side was an insignia of some sort, so worn from age that it could no longer be distinguished.  The other side had the profile of some man, but carved over that was a single, unfamiliar letter of some sort, part of no alphabet or language that Lightning knew.

Then Amodar was standing next to her.

“Give that here, Farron.”

She obediently handed over the coin to the senior field agent, who flipped it to the rune-inscribed side, and frowned.

“...I have a feeling Jihl’s going to want to see this,” he muttered.

There was no time to ask questions, though.  S.W.A.T. was, _finally_ , entering the room, and Amodar was already tucking away the strange object into a pocket.  He whistled to the entire SCS squad.

“Let’s be going then.  The captain will want a full report as soon as possible.”

He stopped to match strides with Lightning as they marched out of the underground, his eyes filled with something like pity. “And you...you’re going to want the next few days off for leave if you had Cid tearing the warpath with you earlier.”

Now she was mildly alarmed.

“Farron...good luck.”

* * *

 

To say that she was sore would have been the most hysterical understatement of the century.  Lightning awoke from nearly twelve hours of dead sleep feeling as hobbled as an arthritic ninety-year-old.

Even after a long bath of soaking herself with salts and hot water, she was still moving at barely more than a shuffle, half-cursing Cid and the entire SCS with every other breath.  At least Yaag had given her specific orders to stay home for the next four days.

 _Least that he could do if he knew_ this _was going to happen..._

It was the first time she hadn’t been at full health since moving apart from Serah, and part of her wished that her sister was here now.  After their parents had died, Lightning and Serah both had grown up taking care of each other, and it felt achingly strange not to have her younger sister around when she felt so physically crippled.  Serah had _always_ been there when Lightning was sick or hurt, no different than how Lightning had been there for Serah.

And yet Lightning couldn’t bring it upon herself to up and actually call her sister, who only lived another district over in Nautilus.

It wasn’t a matter of vain pride so much as embarrassment.  Lightning felt so weak right now.  She knew that Serah would never think less of her, but she found that she didn’t want her younger sister to see her in such a vulnerable and pathetic state.  So she persisted in her stoicism and stumbled about the apartment, trying to convince herself that she didn’t feel quite so terrible as what her body was telling her, until her solitude was finally interrupted.

Lightning groaned and heaved herself toward the intercom panel by the apartment door as her doorbell buzzed.

_Etro forbid it’s a package delivery!  I don’t even think I can make it up the stairs on my own, let alone with a box!_

The caller at the front of the building was hardly the mailman, though.

“ _Heyya, Light!  How are you feeling, champ?”_

“Fang?” she asked, not bothering to hide her incredulity. “What are you doing here?”

“ _Some greeting that is!_ ”

Lightning tried to correct herself. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting you here.  Didn’t you have work today?”

“ _Eh...technically, yes.  But Yaag said something about how I’m more harm than good without my partner to keep me in line_ — _by the way, what would_ he _know about that anyway?!_ — _and, yeah, he said I should go on and check in and make sure you’re still alive.”_

“I...I see.  Well, I’m certainly alive.”

She wasn’t sure what else to say off the top of her head.  It seemed the neurons still were fully firing either.

There was laughter from the other line. “ _So it sounds like it.  Can I come up and make sure though?  I brought movies and take-out food for you!”_

Lightning paused, taken aback but unsure.  She didn’t even want Serah to see her like this—why would Fang be any different?

_“If you’re not feeling up to it, you can say it.  It’s no problem.”_

But this wasn’t Serah.  It was Fang.  This was her partner; this was a woman who had already seen her at some of her weaker moments.  She realized she didn’t want to just send Fang away, especially not after she had come all the way out here, Yaag’s suggestion or no.

“No, no...come on up.  You’re warned...I’m just...not quite up to full speed.”

 _“That’s okay,”_ repeated Fang. “ _Like I said, I brought movies and food: all the essentials for being a bum!”_

“Alright.  I’m going to buzz you in.  I’m third floor.”

 _“Got it!_ ”

She hung up from the intercom and pressed the button that unlocked the entry to the building.  Shortly thereafter she was rewarded with the sound of knocking.

When she opened the door it was to a happily grinning Fang, proffering a white plastic bag of take-out food in one hand, and a collection of movies in the other.

“Come on in,” said Lightning, feeling apprehensive now that Fang was actually here. “You can set the food down on the counter if you want.”

A low whistle followed her as she stiffly limped back toward the couch.  She managed to turn around enough to see that Fang hadn’t moved from the apartment door, and was instead tracking her pathetic progress with wide eyes.

She felt her shoulders automatically try to tense defensively— _try_ , because the muscles alerted her to the instinctive physical response by painfully protesting.

“I know,” she said, trying not to sound too brittle. “I look like shit.”

“Cid said that you’d probably be feeling like you were dragged through all nine Hells and back, but I thought he was just exaggerating.”

“I wish he was,” Lightning said, somewhat tartly.  She turned back toward the couch, then halted when Fang called out her name.

“Lightning...if you want I can give you a back massage.” She stumbled over her words then, and they tumbled out in a quick flood. “I mean...only if you want!  I can give a pretty mean massage, and, I mean, it seems like every little bit can help right now...”

She trailed off, looking at a loss of what to do otherwise with Lightning’s hunched and pained form.

“O-okay,” Lightning finally conceded, seeing the wisdom in Fang’s offer, but suddenly feeling very demure.

“Alright.  Why don’t you lay belly down on the couch for me.  Stretch out as best you can manage.”

Lightning precariously lowered herself only the long couch, laying face down with her shins and feet balanced up on one armrest.

Then the couch dipped a moment later as Fang added her weight to it, her legs straddling either side of Lightning’s hips and the denim of her jeans pressing against Lightning’s pelvis.

She nearly jumped when a hand brushed errantly across the back of her neck, moving her tousled hair out of the way.

“Try to relax, Lightning,” urged Fang, her accented voice soothing and calm. “It’ll help if you can try to get your muscles to ease up a bit—be easier to push out the knots that way.”

Fang paused, and even though her head was already planted downward, Lightning could feel Fang’s hands hovering over her.

“This is probably going to hurt.  A lot.”

Lightning knew that it would, but it would also speed her recovery.  She lifted her head just enough to respond. “Yeah...well...”

What else was there to do?

“Okay.  Hang tight for a bit.”

Fang’s hands started on her neck, almost tentative and cautious at first; and then she began to knead into the strained muscle, digging her thumbs and then her knuckles into tissue that was beyond knotted and angry from severe overuse.

Lightning sucked in a harsh breath, and buried her face into her forearm, trying to focus and relax as much as she could into the touch, and fighting off the gut reaction for her wearied muscles to tense and resist even further.

And if Fang noticed the errant tears of pain that slipped from Lightning’s eyes to be soaked up by the fabric of the couch, she chose not to comment, moving steadily down from Lightning’s shoulders across her overly-tightened back, stopping every now and then as if she could intuitively sense when the torturous treatment bordered on too much for Lightning.

Then finally, _finally_ , it stopped, and Fang slowly got up from her.

She was by no means back to one hundred percent, but the difference was easily noticeable.  Even just sitting up was nowhere near the same slow and arduous task that it had been on her beaten body.

She rotated one shoulder experimentally.  It was a start.

Lightning opened her mouth to begin thanking her partner, but was gently cut off.

“Come on,” said Fang, patting her on the shoulder lightly. “What say we pop in a movie to watch and stuff ourselves with take-out?  I think you’ve more than earned a break for today.”

She smiled as Fang insisted that Lightning stay on the couch and pick out a movie, while Fang got up to busy herself with pulling out the various take-out dishes she’d brought with her.

It really wasn’t so bad to have Fang here with her now, sitting next to her, and avidly digging into her plate of food while opening credits began rolling.  In fact, she found that despite how much her body ached and hurt, she was glad to that she had invited Fang up.  She was glad to have the woman cosied up next to her on the couch, with a spread of greasy take out food in front of them.  For all that she was still exhausted and grumpy and in copious amounts of physical pain, she realized there was no one else she’d rather be here with.

And if worst came to worst and she did happen to nod off during the movie while sitting next to Fang, well...that wasn’t so bad either.

“Thank you, Fang.  You didn’t have to do any of this, but you still did, and it means a lot.”

Curiously enough, Fang coughed a bit and her face colored at the compliment, clearly flustered.  She cleared her throat gruffly and looked away for a bit. “Nothing you wouldn’t have done for me.”

“Maybe,” said Lightning.  Then she poked Fang’s shoulder playfully. “But that’s beside the point.  So, thank you, Fang.”

Her partner finally turned back to face her, and she gave Lightning a soft smile. “You’re welcome, Light.”

 

_Report filed.  Case closed._


	5. Case 005: Once in a Red Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A seemingly straightforward operation suddenly and unexpectedly spins lethally out of control, and Lightning and the rest of SCS are left scrambling to find an answer...one that won't lead to things getting even worse than what they are.

Lightning knocked on the door, feeling a bit more nervous than what she would have liked to otherwise admit.

_This is just a dinner...just a simple dinner._

There was nothing particularly strange or unusual about having her partner invite her over for supper, and Lightning had agreed.  There shouldn’t be anything that made this different than the usual meals that they would go to with each other.

Except for the fact that this time it was Fang’s sister, Vanille who had requested the dinner, and—

The door swung open and inward...and of course it was Vanille who opened the door...and of course her immediate and excited smile did nothing to help Lightning quell the overwhelming feeling that she had showed up for a pig roast, only to find out that she was pig.

“Lightning!  Come in!  You can take off your shoes just right there.”

Vanille closed the door after her while Lightning slid out of her sneakers.

They walked out of the foyer and into the main apartment, Lightning trying to be as appropriately gracious as she was supposed to, though she thought it was a physical impossibility to match Vanille in that.

“Ah...” She held up the bag she had been carrying in her hands. “I thought I’d bring a bit of dessert...”

Her voice inadvertently trailed off, and she stopped, her eyes wide.

The entire room was an explosion of blue.  All along the far windows across from the dining table were pots and pots of blue flowers, and Lightning silently thought that the picture on Fang’s desk did them a disservice.  Never had she seen such a bright color on a flower before.

“You were saying, Lightning?” asked Vanille, before she realized that her guest had halted. “Oh!  You like the Oerban Orchids?  We do grow a lot of them, I guess...”

“Lightning!?  Did I hear correct!” The well-known voice roared across the apartment.  A moment later Fang poked her head from around the corner to where the apartment kitchen must lay, if the smells and and sounds were any indication. “Hey, Light!  Make yourself at home!  I’m just finishing up in here!”

That reminded her of what she had originally been saying. “Oh...that is...I brought some pastries from the bakery that’s around the corner where live.”

Vanille’s eyes jumped excitedly at the word “pastries”—Lightning breathed an internal sigh of relief over Fang’s recommendation on Vanille’s sweet tooth—and she gestured toward the kitchen. “You didn’t have to that!  But thank you!  I can’t wait to try them after dinner!  You can go ahead and put them in the kitchen for now.  I need to finish setting up the table.”

Lightning nodded, and then moved in the direction she had been pointed, all the while feeling a warm smile tug at her lips.  Fang and Vanille’s apartment seemed so...homey.  It reminded Lightning of when she and Serah still lived together.  There was the same bustle and life to it, not like Lightning’s current spartan and utilitarian living space.  She just never had the same love for decor that Serah possessed.

When she entered the kitchen, though, she was greeted with an entirely different sight.

“Fang...” she said, unable to keep the laughter from her voice. “What are you wearing?”

Her partner, the current chef extraordinaire, puffed up proudly, pointing at Lightning with a fork even as she brushed off the hideously frilly and pink object in question. “I’ll have you know it’s my cooking apron, thank you very much!”

Lightning had to put a hand over her mouth, though it did nothing to hide her smirk. “So I see.”

Fang was undeterred. “And tell me, miss-know-it-all, does it smell like I can cook or what?”

She waited patiently, folding her arms and very nearly tapping her foot.

Lightning inhaled deeply, savoring the rich aromas in the air.  There were steaks sizzling in a large pan, a small pot with some kind of red sauce, and another pan with fragrant and sauteed greens.  It was a large step up from the small plastic takeout containers they would feast on during late nights at the office.

“It smells...amazing,” Lightning confessed at last, and her stomach gave a low rumble in confirmation.

“Ha!” Fang grinned in victory. “Now respect the apron!”

Lightning set down the small box of pastries by the sink. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Hold on a sec.” Fang moved to the side of the stove, grabbing several things, but her back obscured just what exactly she was doing to Lightning.  There was a familiar popping sound, and then Fang turned around, proffering out a glass filled with a beautiful and deeply crimson liquid, and holding one for herself. “Here.  You can have some of this.”

Lightning accepted, and couldn’t help but smile. “Wine?  Is this a fancy dinner now?”

Fang raised her eyebrows and leaned in a little bit. “Are you saying it can’t be?”

The fact that Fang had pressed into her personal space hardly phased her, and Lightning smiled back, feeling something in her stomach thrill at the inches that separated them. “You just always struck me as a beer kind of woman.”

“And she normally is!”

Lightning nearly jerked, but kept her cool at the sudden intrusion of Vanille back into the kitchen.  Fang’s sister was giving her the strangest look, that seemed part silent humor but part bemusement...as if Lightning was still some enigma to her that she had not fully classified yet.

Fang groaned, already moving back to tend to her steaks in the pan. “Maybe I am, but doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a nice glass here or there!  ‘Specially when there’s good food and company to go with it.”

“Of course not,” agreed Vanille. “But where’s mine?”

“I’m slaving over the stove for hours here, and all I get are complaints,” Fang bemoaned, earning her a pair of rolling eyes.  Still, she gladly handed Vanille a third glass, and with beverages all in hand, Fang raised hers for a cheer, eyeing Lightning inquisitively.

“To good company and good food?” Lightning suggested.

“Here, here!”

They clinked glasses lightly.

And it _was_ both good food and company.  The medium rare steaks more than lived up their expectations, and after the first few testing queries from Vanille, Lightning found herself starting to relax a bit more, though perhaps that was simply the second glass of wine speaking.

It was clear that Vanille was very interested in knowing as much as she could about Lightning, and while initially taken back by the slew of questions, Lightning realized that Serah would do no different were the positions reversed and it was Lightning bringing Fang over for an intimate family dinner.

“So, how do you like working with Fang?  Is she as difficult a case partner as an older sister?”

Lightning took a moment before speaking, smiling at the way Fang playfully threw her balled up napkin toward Vanille.

“Well,” she drew out her words, raising one suggestive eyebrow at Fang even as she forced her lips down into a serious line. “Eden knows that she can try the patience of the gods themselves—”

“Oh, for the love of!”

The smile broke through her mask at Fang’s exasperated and long-suffering exclamation. “...but she’s the best partner I could ask for at the end of the day.  At least most times.”

“ _All_ the time,” corrected Fang primly, snatching her napkin projectile from Vanille and throwing it at Lightning instead.

Lightning caught it easily out of the air and replaced it on the table—out of Fang’s reach this time.

“She can get violent, as you know,” explained Lightning patiently to Vanille.  It was too difficult to let slide the opportunity to tease Fang and put her on the back foot for once.

“Of course, of course.” Vanille nodded her head in perfect understanding, while Fang rolled her eyes.

“Ha...you two are so clever.” Fang snorted and rolled around her wine glass before taking a sip again.

Lightning chose not to answer, instead turning back toward Vanille.  Her words came slowly at first, but they were more honest than anything she had spoken prior.

“Truly, Fang is...well, we have our occasional differences—who doesn’t?—but I think the captain saw more than I did when she made us case partners.  Fang’s the best partner I could ever imagine having, and I hope that we have a good long career ahead of us while working together.”

Lightning ended by meeting Fang’s gaze again.  The green eyes had widened a bit, but they were gentle and content.

“Couldn’t have worded my own sentiments any better, Light.” Fang lifted her glass, and Lightning clinked her own against it. “To the best of partnerships!”

_Cheers._

 

* * *

Lightning crossed rubber training rods with Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca—their resident valkyrie in the SCS—and felt her lips tilt upward in a small smile.

She was not prone to smiling during combat.  In fact, Fang had commented a multitude of times on how Lightning seemed unable to crack even the faintest of grins, whereas Fang herself tended to have one giant and slightly maniacal smile that would split across her face when in the heat of combat.

Lightning didn’t know why that was the case.  She always smiled afterward, when victory had been achieved, but even in practice, it just seemed hard to do while in the midsts of training.  Combat was a period for focus; there would always be time enough later for grinning and laughter.

Today, however, seemed to be an exception.  For all that it was still in the early morning hours before the office filled up, Lightning was alert, awake, and relaxed.

More than ever, she understood what Ashe meant when she called one-on-one combat a dance.  Both of their movements were fast, but not hurried; technical, but not restricted.  Lightning had come to greatly enjoy her morning training sessions with Ashe over the course of the past year, though maybe her growing proficiency in personal weapons gave reason for that.

Perhaps it was something that she’d picked up after Cid’s possession of her, perhaps it was that she was finally over some hurdle, but regardless, the sparring sessions had become easier and easier with Ashe.  She certainly was still pushed during their workouts, but it was different.

The struggle that had so clearly characterized her first few months of sparring was gone, replaced by an easy and comfortable familiarity with the once foreign melee weapons.  Lightning felt more than just confident, she felt knowledgeably proficient.

Ashe made the call to step back and rest from their bout.  Lightning bowed back and let her sword arm rest, wiping away the annoying droplets of sweat from her brow while she regained her breath.  Her heart rate was already recovering, and she’d be ready for the next round in just another minute.

“We are done.”

Lightning looked up at Ashe sharply, now confused.  They had hardly completed a full workout, and she felt more than ready to keep pushing.

“What do you mean?  What is it Ashe?”

She smiled at Lightning, and it was a look filled with warm amusement.

“Exactly what I said: we are done.  You are no longer in need of my training, Lightning Farron.  You have become more than acceptable in all areas of your martial skill, and the captain agrees with me.”

The training rod, like usual, was politely taken from Lightning’s grasp, and Ashe turned to replace them both into the weapons cabinet.

But when she returned back, it was with something else in hand.

Ashe offered a long and thin bundle of black velvet to Lightning, holding it almost reverently in her hands.

When Lightning did not immediately take it, the Valkyrie frowned and continued to proffer it. “This is for you, Farron.  Take it.”

Lightning hesitantly accepted the bundle, feeling almost shy about it.  When Ashe continued to watch expectantly, she realized that Ashe was waiting for her to unwrap it.  Lightning undid the ties and carefully rolled back the soft velvet coverings.  Beneath the protective cloth lay a sheathed and perfectly oiled weapon.  Lightning could tell before she even touched it that is was new, untested and unminted.

It was a falchion, similar to what she had used in the vampire sting, but this one seemed far more refined at just quick glance.  The leather sheath was ornately worked with a series of decorative knots and symbols, and Lightning vaguely recognized some of the symbols for the gods inscribed on dark, almost black material.  The hilt was generously wrapped with the same dark leather, and Lightning itched to try it, certain that it was soft kid and would fit her grip perfectly.

She looked up and saw Ashe’s eyes twinkling, and then realized that she was also waiting for Lightning to try it out.

Not wanting to waste another moment, Lightning grabbed the hilt firmly with her right hand, allowing the velvet to fall to her feet, forgotten.

In a single fluid motion, she unsheathed the new sword, and the breath caught in her throat.

Lightning had never been one for a huge appreciation of weaponry.  She certainly kept her weapons in top form but...but this!  This sword was more than just a weapon.  It was a work of art. 

As she expected, the leather grip pressed comfortably into her hand, neither too hard nor too oiled.  But it was more than that.  The tang and pommel were perfectly balanced to the blade.  She flicked her wrist, and the sword moved like an extension of her arm.  Though not particularly ornate or gilded, the guard was perfectly formed for catching and disarming other weapons.  It was simple, beautiful, and elegantly functional.

And that was to say nothing of the blade itself.

It very nearly glowed in the bright light of the training room, shining brighter than any finely polished mirror or silver surface.  As Lightning twisted the curved blade, it seemed to catch and hold the rays of light, spiraling them along the curves of the metal as though the blade were in liquid motion.

“What...” Lightning swallowed to wet her dry throat. “What is this?”

Ashe stepped in and gently cupped the flat of the weapon.

“This is the weapon for any true warrior.  It is made of an alloy of orihalcum, like my own _Guðrún Caldera,_ ” she said, referencing her signature broadsword.  She trailed her way delicately down the gleaming weapon with her index finger, coming to rest on a series of inscribed words near the base of the blade.  Lightning couldn’t read the language, but she found she didn’t mind. “This script here, in standard tongue, it says ‘Invoke my name - I am Spark’.”

“Is that it’s name?” asked Lightning, her throat already feeling dry again.

Ashe laughed at that, and Lightning realized that she’d never truly heard the valkyrie laugh before.  It was ringing, clear, and easy.

“Hardly.  It is your blade, Lightning.  You must choose a fitting a name.”

 _My blade?  This?_   This was weapon for a valkyrie, not a simple cop.

“Ashe...I can hardly accept...I mean, this is far too fine—”

Ashe silenced her with a stern look. “Lightning Farron, I had this blade made specifically for you, with the captain’s blessing.  Both she and lieutenant agreed that you should have a proper melee weapon of your own.”

“But...” Her protest sounded weak to her own ears.

Ashe was unrelenting. “If you do not use it, then no one will.”

And that would be a shame, on many levels.  Ashe did not need to say it for Lightning to hear it.  She looked down at the gorgeous falchion, squeezed her hand and again felt how utterly _natural_ it was in her grip.

“Well, what will the name be?”

Lightning closed her eyes, imagined moving with the blade in hand, weaving and dodging, cutting down shadowy enemies with a blade as bright as the stars.

“Blazefire.”

She didn’t even know where the name came from, but as soon as it rolled off of her tongue, she knew it was right.

Ashe was smiling at her when she opened her eyes. “An excellent name.  May Blazefire be at your side for many years yet.”

Lightning bowed her head—it felt like the right thing to—and then resheathed the weapon, _her_ weapon, back into its casing.

“While your training may be over, Lightning, should you ever wish to test your skills...”

Ashe trailed off, and Lightning smiled back.  The valkyrie had been an excellent tutor, and Lightning would be more than happy to continue their sessions.

Her smile grew as she clasped the sheath of the falchion and followed Ashe back toward the locker rooms.

 _Blazefire_ , she thought again, rolling the word silently on her tongue. _You and I are going to make a good team._

* * *

The day at the office was pleasantly laid back, neither too slow nor too rushed, and Lightning was glad for it.  Evening was upon them, and hopefully they would be free to go home soon.  In the meantime, she was chatting leisurely with Fang while they lounged at their desks, no different than their comrades.

“So you had a good time at dinner, then?” asked Fang again, her eyes twinkling and a small smile playing across her face.

“You know I did, Fang.  I was hardly lying earlier.”

The smile grew. “Just checking.  You know, Vanille really enjoyed meeting you.  I think she was going to bludgeon me soon if I didn’t manage to convince you to come over.”

Lightning rolled her eyes.  She could hardly imagine Vanille bludgeoning anyone, let alone her older sister.  It did, however, remind her of something else that she had been meaning to say. “Speaking of meeting sisters, I’m sure Serah would love to meet you, too.”

In fact she knew it, and now that things seemed to have at last turned a corner between her and Serah, maybe it was time that she followed suit and finally introduced her own family to the woman who was working partner and more.

Fang looked surprised, but for only the barest second.  Then it morphed into a look of soft and genuine pleasure. “I’d like that, Light.”

Then her smile turned into a wicked and teasing grin. “Gotta get all the dirt from Farron-junior, after all.”

Before Lightning could respond with an appropriate retort, the door to the captain’s office whipped open, and they were all standing attention as Yaag stormed out, his eyebrows drawn together angrily.

“We have a high priority alert, squad.”

Everyone was silent, waiting on his word.

“Reports have just come in of a multiple-oddity, violent disturbance in the southern part of the Circuit neighborhood.  Grab your gear and load up.  We’re heading out now.”

* * *

Lightning and Fang hopped out together from the back of their transport van, just catching what Ashe was discussing with Amodar and Kimahri

“...at least two targets.  We’ve already had five reports now of attacks by giant wolves.  Sounds like we’re dealing with werewolves...”

Lightning looked up at the sky for confirmation.  The had spoken over the mobile debriefing about what the culprits might be, but it didn’t make sense to her, and she voiced her concern. “It’s only a half moon tonight.  I thought werewolves...”

Fang shook her head, clarifying. “Werewolf is a generic term, means any kind of...what do you call it again?  _Theriomorph._   That’s it.  Any lupine theriomorph.  So any human that can turn into a wolf.  Oh, and all that talk of silver doesn’t apply here either.”

Fang tapped at her silver necklace and bracelets for good measure.

Lightning frowned at that. “Then where _does_ all of the talk about full moons and silver come from?”

It seemed strange that so many urban myths would persist without reason.  Usually, oddity related talk came from some bead of truth, even if it was small.

Fang’s lips thinned visibly, and her eyebrows pressed together darkly.”

“It comes from loup garou...a particular type of lupine theriomorph.  _That’s_ what most people are thinking of with that talk.  Cursed, turns into a bloodthirsty killing machine every full moon, only weak to silver...if that’s what we were up against...” Fang shook her head and laughed, but there was no humor it. “We would need a lot more than just us.”

Lightning shivered at that.

In perfect timing, a howl carried through the air, echoing over the tall brick apartment buildings and through the streets.  It was eerie and haunting, and distinctly different from any dog’s howl.

Then a second howl joined in, and a third, creating a chorus in the night air.

As the howls died down, Rygdea spat and cursed. “Goddamn pack of them.  Got our work cut out for us, I guess.”

There were equal looks of distaste from the other squadmates, but Amodar held up a hand, reigning them in.

“Sounds like three targets at the moment, so we’ll need to split to keep them from wreaking too much more havoc.  Ashe, Kimahri, you take the main route down Sono Ave.  Fang and Farron, you follow down Exeter Street.  Rygdea and I will cover more toward the Lower East End and Charles Linden Street.  Let’s keep our comm. devices on and ready in case we need any backup.  And remember, these are armed and dangerous individuals, even when in human form.  Use caution and lethal force if necessary.  We don’t want any civilian casualties.”

“Sir!”

They nodded toward Amodar, and then it was time for work.  Lightning and Fang took off toward the Upper East End and Exeter.  They started at a brisk walk through the fairly empty streets.  It was a residential area, but with the call put out for an oddity hunt, it was far more quiet than normal, with only the occasional bum by some garbage bins or tenant on his stoop or balcony, interestedly watching as the heavily armed officers walked by.

Another howl pierced through the air, this one much closer than the first, and Lightning broke into a jog as she followed the sound, Fang right next to her.

There was a snarl and the sound of breaking glass, followed by a confused and disoriented yell.

Then a man, clearly homeless, ran out of the alleyway ahead, his eyes wide with fear, and a broken bottle in one hand, while blood poured down a fresh wound on his forearm.

His wide eyes focused on them, and even though his breath was heavy with whiskey, he shouted clearly. “W-wolf!  Help!”

“Get out of here!” yelled Fang, and the man seemed too happy to comply for once, stumbling down the street while they continued down into the alleyway, only to be greeted by another man.

He squatted calmly atop one of the dumpster, wiping trickles of blood from his face, and then froze once he spotted them.

Even from the distance that separated them, Lightning could see the smile twist his lips upward.  He muttered something, and while she couldn’t hear what word passed his mouth, to her eyes, it looked strangely like he had said “finally”.

Then the man jumped, and as he did, his body transformed, moving smoothly from human into animal.  It was a wolf that landed on the sidewalk, but Lightning knew she would never encounter a creature like this out in the wilds.  In terms of sheer size alone, it was easily on par with a bear, many times larger than even the biggest of timber wolves, but covered from snout to paw in a red fur too bright to be natural. 

“Stop!” yelled Fang, aiming her gun at the gigantic wolf.

The werewolf bared its teeth and let out a rumbling and feral growl, and pointed its shockingly blue eyes at them.

“Stop!” Fang repeated herself, and Lightning trained her semi-automatic on the oddity as well. “Yield now or we will shoot!”

It snorted loudly, as if to say what it thought of that, and then bounded down a connecting side alley before they could even think to follow through on their threat.

“Dammit!  ‘Course it couldn’t be that easy!”

They took off after the werewolf, tracking it down the maze of alleys that connected the various apartment buildings and streets.

“This is Farron.” Lightning spoke into her comm device. “We are in pursuit.  Repeat, we are in pursuit of target.”

She only vaguely heard the confirmations through her earpiece, and reports of how the other ops were going.  Her attention was focused solely on the task at hand, and on the oddity they were hunting down.  He was too fast as a werewolf to close the distance on, and every time they were about to have a clear scope on him, he dove down a corner and into another alley.  The further they ran, the more Lightning’s frustration grew, and she heard a curse from Fang.

What else could they do but continue the chase, though?

They followed the darting flash of red down another dank corridor, and that was when Lightning began to notice it.

A sound was thrumming through the air, and it was only after a moment that she realized it was more than just the usual mechanical and electrical sounds of life that were typical to the city buildings.

There was a low a constant whisper, words being spoken over the winds and growing in intensity, now easily distinguishable to her ears and suddenly distracting her, making her slow down.  She couldn’t recognize the language but she could just almost hear what was being chanted...

“ _...vam iram et dolorem ferum...”_

It seemed to come from every direction, and yet no direction at all.  Just as she was slowing and about to say something to Fang, a bright flash of light suddenly shot through the alley, and arcs of electricity fired from the wires and control boxes on the sides of the buildings, causing what few lights there were to pop and go dark.  This was followed by the loud and distinctive snap of something metal breaking.  Lightning stopped short once she heard Fang do the same.  Blinking away the afterlights from her vision, she turned just in time to see the glimmer of polished jewelry strike the ground.

One of Fang’s thick silver bangles had fallen from her wrist, and now lay in two pieces on the ground, perfectly shorn in half.

Surprise was clearly written across Fang’s face, as well as a flicker of wary apprehension.

“What...?” She twisted her wrist, and Lightning was confused as to what exactly was going on, since they both seemed unhurt.

“Fang!”

That seemed to shake her partner free of whatever mental quagmire she had wandered into. “Right...let’s bag this guy and be done with it.”

She re-hefted her gun, and they renewed their chase, dipping into another alleyway and finally gaining sight of their target once again.  This time, neither of them hesitated, and they both pulled their triggers, aiming for the back legs while they still could.

A loud yelp signified that at least one of their shots had hit, and a moment later the werewolf tumbled forward into the ground, and then a man pushed himself upward from where the wolf had been only a second earlier.  He was clothed, and Lightning could see as she slowly approached that he had a heavy red beard and mop of hair that was the was the exact same auburn color that the wolf’s pelt of fur had been.  The whole of his weight was was balanced heavily on one leg, while a stain of red rapidly expanded across the thigh of the other.  A hand immediately clapped over it in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

Lightning kept her gun trained on him, and Fang called out next to her, her voice hard and unforgiving. “Give it up, buddy!  We’ve had enough of your shenanigans, and your friends are gonna be reeled in soon, too.  It’s over!”

The threat seemed to have barely any effect, though.

“It’s hardly over,” yelled the theriomorph.  His eyes were wild, crazed almost, and the hand that was covering his wound squeezed until the knuckles were white, causing thick streams of bright red blood to flow between his fingers and drip down onto the street.  A manic grin split his face in two. “In fact, it’s only beginning!”

A flutter of movement in Lightning’s peripheral caught her attention, and despite having the werewolf in front of her, she looked up.

There was someone on the rooftop corner to her left, tall and willowy, but clouded in an unnatural shadow that obscured their features.

She squinted, but all she could make out was a brief glimmer of long, pale hair.

“Wha...”

The figure suddenly thrust out a hand, reaching not toward them, but up toward the starry night sky, as if straining to pull the very moon out of the heavens.  Lightning heard the pounding whisper of strange words on the wind a second time.

The black-gloved fingers closed further and further, finally making a tight fist and squeezing.

And in response, the moon _moved_.

It jerked and twisted across the sky, running through a month’s worth of phases, waxing and waxing, until it became full, a silver orb hanging amidst the stars..

What had just happened?

Lightning turned to look back toward the rooftops where the mysterious figure had been, but her attention was abruptly drawn elsewhere.

“NO!”

“Fang!” Lightning was alarmed, and looked to her partner.  A quick glance showed that the werewolf had taken off in their confusion, but Lightning could care less about their target now.

Fang had dropped her gun, and was scrabbling at her wrist where the silver bracelet had fallen from.  There was a frenzied desperation to her movements that Lightning had never seen before.

“No, no, no!”

“Fang!” Lightning repeated herself and took a step closer, but stopped when Fang suddenly shuddered, long and hard.  Her partner turned, pinned her with a gaze, and screamed.

“Lightning!  Run!”

But Lightning was frozen to the spot, petrified by the look in Fang’s eyes.  She had never seen Fang look at her, at _anyone_ , like that before.

Her eyes were wide, filled with an intense and overwhelming panic, and a silent plea for mercy.  It shook Lightning to the core.

When she hesitated, Fang screamed a second time. “Don’t stand here!  Run, dammit!  Get the fuck awa—gghh!”

Her voice cut at the end, as though choking, and Lightning began instinctively and slowly backing up, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

Things had just gone very, _very,_ wrong.

While Lightning gripped her weapon tighter, Fang was now clutching her head, and Lightning could see that her hands were shaking, almost seizing with spasms.

She crouched over as if in severe pain, and Lightning was about to run back in toward her, but then the sounds began.

There was first the noise of bones cracking and popping, and Lightning could only watch with horror as Fang’s joints and limbs suddenly twisted and elongated in a way that no human’s should.  It was followed by the ripping of fabric as her clothes and kevlar were shredded apart, yielding before the force of rapidly expanding flesh and muscle.  Thick and shaggy fur burst through, covering the entire hulking beast that now stood in place of Fang.

It was wolf- _like_ , but to call it a wolf would be an exaggeration of extreme degree.

It stood bipedal like a human would, its long and furry tail just barely resting above the ground, its weight balanced over two thick paws, and heavy, elongated canine legs.

From the waist upward, it grew wider, pounds upon countless pounds of dense muscle packed into shoulders that were broader than any man’s, and arms that were thicker than Lightning’s own legs.  They hung down like a gorilla’s, complete with vast, engulfing hands, with claws the length of her thumb, clearly designed for a single, lethal purpose.

However, Lightning’s attention was focused on the head.

Towering atop the nearly ten-foot tall body, it was far too animalistic for a human, but not quite the same as the lupine brethren for which it was named.  The snout was too short, with broad and snapping jaws that seemed almost akin to a hyena instead of a wolf, and pointed furry ears that were currently pressed flat to the thick and wide skull.

It was an abomination, black-furred and aching to kill, and the only remaining hint of Fang beneath the loup garou were the catching green eyes.

They were the exact same color and hue as Fang’s, but in that burning gaze, there was not even the vaguest flicker of the woman that Lightning had known.  There was only bloodlust, and lethal intent.

And when those eyes focused in on Lightning, she felt fear, complete and absolute, consume her.

She felt small and weak, and knew that she was very much the prey before an apex predator.

The loup garou let out a deep and vicious snarl, and thick beads of saliva dripped from its open mouth, revealing a full set of very, _very_ sharp teeth.

Lightning took one step backward.  And then a second, and then a third, unable to tear her gaze from the familiar yet utterly alien eyes.

Her gun shook in her hand, yet she couldn’t even begin to think of feeling shame.

“What the hell is going on back ‘ere?  This is our fucking territory...”

Several men entered the far end of the alley, two holding bats, and all of them clearly thugs of some sort, though Lightning could care less who they were affiliated with.

The men were loud, boisterous, and probably intoxicated, but they fell silent as soon the loup garou turned on them, and a growl erupted from its mouth, so low and loud that it rumbled deep into Lightning’s chest.

“What...what is...?”

His voice cut off in a breathless shriek, and before he or his comrades could do anything, before Lightning could even do anything, the loup garou leapt on them.  It landed in whirlwind of swirling claws and teeth that ripped into the soft and very human flesh of the thugs before they could do a thing.

In seconds the men were down, not a single one able to escape as the beast eviscerated and slashed through every last one of them, digging into muscle and organ in a frenzied bloodrage.

And Lightning...Lightning could nothing but stare, a cold wave of shock flooding her system, overriding even the extensive years of heavy police training.

_Run._

A command welled up from deep part inside of her, at first in Fang’s voice, but then in her own.

_Run!_

She was over a block away, her chest heaving and her adrenaline on full before she even realized what she had done.

She had run away.

Lightning Farron, for the first time in her life, had turned tail and run.

Suddenly, her hearing came back into sharp focus, and Amodar was yelling through her earpiece.

 _“_ — _arron!  Farron!  Say something!_

She managed to slow down, finally gasp out a response. “Sir?”

_“What happened to Fang?  We saw the moon...is she...?”_

So then they all already suspected.  They knew what Fang was.  A tremor ran through Lightning, but she still answered, even though her tongue seemed to fumble over the words.

“She...Fang’s gone...she’s turned into some...some... _thing_.” She felt panic choke and close off her throat for a moment, and she remembered the terrible creature that Fang had turned into, how it had gazed at her with a mindless desire to kill, and how it had done just that in an instant to the men in the alleyway.

“ _Farron...get the hell out of there!_ ”

Lightning stopped dead, gaping at the empty air before her, automatic reflexes finally kicking back in.

“But...sir...this a populated area.  Civilians—”

“ _And you can’t do a damned thing right now.  I’m telling you, you versus a loup garou in any scenario right now ends the same way: with you dead.  You get out of there as fast as you can and tell anyone else you encounter to do the same.  Regroup at the corner of Church Street and Magnolia.  This is an order.  You do not stop for anything.  Get back here as fast as you can.  Understood?”_

She continued running, feeling her blood pound as she registered just what was being asked of her: to continue retreating, and to leave anyone she encountered to fend for themselves.  It ran counter to everything she had ever been taught.

_“Farron!”_

She clenched her jaw in helpless frustration, but finally gritted out the response.

“I hear you.”

_“Good.  Now act like your damned namesake and run!”_

Lightning did, unable to help but glance backwards over her shoulder every now and then.

And then the sirens began.

They were loud, wailing warnings, emanating from the street corners, but to a different staccato than the natural disaster horns.

It was a high alert for an oddity-related disaster, and though it had never officially happened in Lightning’s lifetime spent in Nautilus up until now, every citizen knew _exactly_ what the sirens were and what they meant, and only a fool would be caught in the streets once the warnings began.

Lightning rounded the street corner, and a howl suddenly chased her through the air, making her heartbeat jump even higher.

She knew—how she knew with a cold sense of dread certainty—that the monster was on her trail.

The big muscles in her legs burned as she ran, and she slowed only once she turned onto the next street over, and a sharp voice ordered her to halt.

It was two officers on the beat, their hands over their guns and their brows wary at the site of a heavily armed woman running like hell through the now empty streets.

Lightning fumbled to show her own badge, and had trouble enough catching her breath to try and speak.

One of the cops made a face and scoffed. “SCS...what the hell is even going on here right now...”

His voice trailed off, and all three of them turned toward the end of street, where Lightning had originally come from.

Standing in the middle of the road, upright and towering on its hind legs, was the loup garou.  Even in the yellow street lamps, it was a dark shadow, broken only by two glowing green eyes, and the line of red that was its mouth.

Lightning began moving again, then, yelling at the cops who had held her up.

“Get out of here!  Run!”

She had only barely pushed toward the next street, when she turned around, flabbergasted that the officers were refusing to give ground.

“The fuck is that!”

Rather than following Lightning, the two cops stood their way, both pulling out their handguns and taking aim as the werewolf began to run toward them.

“No!”

She wasn’t even sure who she was yelling at anymore.

Lightning stopped where she was, and watched in horror as officers emptied their clips into the charging werewolf, but it was to no effect.  The creature that had once been Fang only picked up momentum, and by the time the patrol had the sense to attempt to turn tail and run, it was far too late.

With a feral roar, the beast jumped, covering the remaining ten feet that separated it from the police in a flash.  There were loud, sharp screams as each massive and clawed hand took down a cop, and then gurgling and wet slopping as the werewolf snapped its jaws downward and quickly finished the kills.

Thee crack of bone signified the sternums of the dead officers being ripped open and apart, and Lightning felt bile choke at the back of her throat once she realized what was happening.  The monster was feasting on the hearts.

She coughed and gagged, and though she was able to swallow down, the back of her throat and tongue still burned with acrid fumes.

To wait any longer was to be next in line.

The rest of the way passed in seconds to her mind, and it was with no small sense of surprise that she suddenly found herself rushing into a cluster of armed officers and flashing lights.  Her vision blurred with the mix of faces around her, both foreign and familiar.  She felt hands on her, heard a familiar voice.

“Farron, what the hell happened?”

She opened her mouth, tried to explain, but the words fell on themselves in a garbled mess, even as Amodar’s concerned face finally swam into focus.

She heard Kimahri say something, and then a shining and open flask was suddenly being pressed to her face, and the strong smell of alcohol flooded her nostrils.  Though at first she tried to push it away, Amodar’s voice cut through to her.

“You’re no good like this to anyone, Farron.  Now take a drink.  It’ll help to calm your nerves.”

 _That_ snub, unintentional though it was, seemed to suddenly break the haze that clouded over her, and she snatched the flask, pausing to glare at Amodar before taking a healthy swig.  Whatever it was burned all the way down to her belly, and whether it was from that or her indignation at being called out on her frenzy, she felt herself slowly calm to a more manageable mood, the severe panic now abating somewhat.

Lightning looked around, and saw that it was not only her squad here, but a large contingent of S.W.A.T. and the PD assembling at the crossroads, already setting up barriers, snipers and officers alike readying themselves.

Her attention was drawn back toward her field leader when he gently pulled the flask back from her hands, capping it and stowing it away in his belt.

“Now,” he said, catching Lightning’s eyes with her own. “Tell us what happened, Farron.”

She did this time, in an emotionless rush of objective detail, rattling off what had happened like it was any other report, and _that_ helped to ground her the most.

What had happened was done.  What mattered now was what they were going to do.

“Shit...so she’s gone full loup garou.” Rygdea shook his head and rubbed his chin with a free hand, looking away.

“How bad is it?” asked Lightning, already dreading the answer as she looked at the pale faces around her.

Amodar shook his head and just barely whispered, “We’re in deep, right now.  I’ll tell you that much.  This is not good.  Not at all.”

He continued shaking his head, and they all fell into silence, the sirens roaring over the air and the sound of S.W.A.T. rushing around them, orders being frantically yelled out.

Lightning straightened when there was the distinctive pop of gunfire from several blocks over, and she heard a report come in over the radio of an officer nearby them.

 _“We’ve got the target in sight\\!  Repeat!  We have target on u_ — _”_

The report dissolved in yells and then static, and it was impossible to miss how many of the officers paused, even if it was just for a moment.  It made her stomach begin to sink all over again...until a new voice interrupted, despite the growing chaos around them.

“What is going on?  I want a status report now.”

The voice was cold, irritated, and so familiar that Lightning nearly sighed with relief as she turned and saw Yaag approach one of the commanding S.W.A.T. captains, Jihl exiting the dark sedan that she and Yaag had obviously just arrived in.

As Yaag collected his update, Jihl surveyed the scene.  Her eyes slowly scanned over the SCS squad members, resting for a long moment on Lightning.

The sound of gunfire cracked through the air again, followed by screams, and everyone turned toward the end of the street where one of the police barriers was blown apart by some crude physical force.  Then the loup garou charged through, pinning down an officer and tearing out his throat in a fountain of bright arterial blood before anyone could even twitch a finger.

“Pull back!” The order was roared out over radio by the S.W.A.T. commander standing next Rosch. “I repeat!  All units pull back now and get out of here!”

“What are you doing?” demanded Yaag. “We can’t simply abandon—”

“We’ve already called the wizards!” yelled the man.  His voice cracked and broke with near hysteria. “And I won’t sacrifice any more of my men!  What the hell else are we supposed to do while that thing advances?”

“Enough!” snapped Jihl, and nearly every eye that was not already trained on the loup garou turned to her, voices silencing themselves. “We cannot afford to wait for the wizards to arrive.  You do not have the capabilities at this moment to repel the loup garou...so I will.”

As she spoke, she calmly undid her cufflinks and pulled off her jacket, handing both to Yaag, who bowed and gladly took the items. “Ma’m.”

“Now, I will kindly suggest that you all clear the area.”

Yaag turned and marched down the street with the other SCS members in tow, away from Jihl and from the loup garou.  Some of the officers hesitated, but then turned and followed quickly, occasionally glancing back in a mixture of fear and relief.

Lightning, however, remained.

Jihl glanced to the side, and her gaze pinned Lightning in place. “Perhaps I did not speak clearly enough.”

Her words were a soft utterance, but were still sharper than steel.

“With all due respect, Captain—”

“I do not want your respect, Claire Farron, I want your obedience.  Now stand down!”

“I’m not going!” yelled Lightning back, refusing to give ground and tilting her chin up solid defiance. 

She saw Jihl’s eyes widen in shock at first, and then narrow once again.

Lightning braced herself, but it seemed to be for no reason.  Jihl let out a cold and clipped laugh, and a tight smile came back to life on her face.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.  Very well, Farron.  Do as you please, but remember that it was your choice to stay.”

Then she turned her gaze back down toward the end of the street.

Jihl stared at the loup garou, completely unbothered as it howled and roared, and let her arms fall easily at her sides.  Her shirt sleeves hung loosely without the usual gold cufflinks, and the fabric fluttered in the wind, mirroring the waves in her long and unbound hair.

The street lamps blazed brighter for a second and then dimmed to a low glow.  Lightning blinked and was forced to rub her eyes.

Jihl’s shadow was doing more than just moving.  It pulsated, jumping and growing in leaps and bounds, beginning to take on a form of its own.

It was hard to look at.  There was something about it all that made Lightning’s skin crawl.  The moment she looked away, though, a huge blast of wind suddenly emanated outward, forcing her back a half step.  It was only once the violent wind died back down that she was able to look back up.

And where Jihl had stood but a minute earlier, there was no sign.  Gone was the slender woman who headed the Special Cases Squad, and in her place was a creature that made Lightning shake and break out into a cold sweat all over again.

_A dragon?  She’s a fucking dragon?!_

A peal of wild and hysteric laughter bubbled up, and Lightning clenched down on her jaw, unwilling to let it escape her mouth.

Jihl was a dragon, Fang was a loup garou...just what was even going on anymore?

Well, now she understood why everyone else had cleared the hell back when Jihl told them to.

As Lightning sized up the legendary creature before them, she found it hard to see any remnant of the woman she owed allegiance to.

The eyes were the same, even if they were now several orders of magnitude larger.  Golden, cat-slitted, and filled with the unspoken promise of pain and danger.  But beyond that, there was no hint of the human captain.  In dragon form, Jihl’s body stretched an easy thirty feet long, to say nothing of the twisting and serpentine tail.

Four heavily muscled legs supported the girth of the body, and two vast and dark wings cracked open and stretched out to its sides, creating a second night.

There were horns on its head, spikes decorating the length of the spine and tail, and every last inch of the mythical reptile was covered in seamless scales, as perfectly black as sin itself.

The dragon readjusted it weight, causing cracks to form in the asphalt beneath it, and then opened its mouth to let out a loud and warning hiss, revealing a curling red tongue and a multitude of glittering white teeth.

Lightning took yet another step back.

The loup garou, however, was completely undeterred.  If anything, the beast seemed further enraged, pulling back its arms and thrusting its barrel chest out give another blood-curdling howl.

And then it charged, dropping down to all fours, and covering the yards that separated the two oddities in matter of seconds.

The loup garou jumped, launching itself into the air with claws outstretched and jaws open.

It was swatted out of the air in an instant by the spiked tail.

Blood splattered across the pavement, but the beast was already back up and screaming in rage, the wounds that had been inflicted on it healed in the blink of an eye.

It charged a second time, and when Jihl’s tail moved to counter again, the loup garou twisted in the air, ready.  It latched onto the edge of the tail, digging in through the scales with claws and teeth alike, causing Jihl to screech and hiss in pain.

The tail suddenly flickered forward, slamming downward into the pavement again and again, furiously trying to dislodge the beast that was attached to it.  On the fourth strike into the ground, the loup garou finally let go, falling back into the shattered pieces of concrete and asphalt, blood pooling everywhere.

And yet it still got up.  No differently than before, it rose onto its paws, snarling its insatiable rage, as healthy and unscathed as when it had first transformed into existence.

As the loup garou righted itself, the dragon shifted.  It planted all four of its trunk-like legs, digging its claws deep into the asphalt for support.  The membranous wings snapped back in close to its body, and its head drew back while its chest puffed out.

Lightning realized what Jihl was going to do a split second before it happened.

She tried to cry out, to stop it, but she was too late.

In an instant, Fang—no, the entire street—was consumed by a massive gout of dragonfire.  The red-hot ball of flame blazed down the street in an instant, leaving only melted tar and transient heat waves in its wake.

The smell of burnt hair was easily distinguishable to Lightning’s nostrils, and she nearly gagged.

She wiped her mouth and looked up, and through the distortion of the remnant heat, at the very far end of the street, she saw something moving.

Not even dragonfire had stopped it.

Just what the hell was this thing?

Though by no means dead, the blistering attack from Jihl seemed to have broken through some persistence that the loup garou had.  Rather than renewing the assault, the creature rose, shaking off a layer of cinder and ash and loping away with a last warning growl that carried through the night air.

Lightning stared after it, feeling numb from shock.

There was the sound of boots clicking behind her, and she finally turned around.

Yaag had approached back, and this time he was accompanied not only by police officers, but by a small contingent of several heavily robed men, their faces completely shadowed by the large brimmed hats that they wore, even though it was the dark of night.

The wizards had arrived at last.

* * *

“You need to give it to over, Farron.  We need every last advantage we can use.”

Yaag’s voice was uncompromising, and he nodded toward the wizard who waited patiently alongside him.

Lightning sighed, knowing that Yaag was right, and then hesitantly took off her necklace.  It was her totem...her symbol of Etro.  But even more than that, it was one of the few treasures she had from her mother, and she was loathe to hand it over, even though she knew she had little choice.

Against the nearly invincible monster they were facing, inherited silver was the pretty much the only option.

There was apparently some truth to the myths behind silver hurting werewolves.  While it did nothing outside of the usual to to creatures like the shape-shifted werewolves they had originally been hunting down, to a cursed beast like the loup garou, silver—specifically that which had been inherited—was the only historically viable option to truly injure...or kill.

Neither thought rested easily on Lightning’s mind.  This wasn’t just a monster oddity, it was also Fang.  And yet, she knew the importance of having every last tool available at her disposal.

The necklace was placed into the waiting and gloved hands of the wizard, who muttered a brief thanks before returning to the circle with the rest of his brethren

Lightning glanced over at the collection of wizards, and put a hand to her forehead.  How things had spiralled so quickly into hell was beyond her, and thinking about it only served to further increase her headache.

While the wizards continued their business, she moved back to the SCS armored van that had arrived.  The back doors to the van were wide open, and rest of her squadmates were busying themselves with appropriately restocking their personal equipment and gear for the upcoming operation.

Lightning hopped into the truck, already undoing the straps to her kevlar vest and riot armor.  It would be of no use to her in this matter.  Bereft of all of the heavy layers of gear, she felt terribly vulnerable, but there was naught to be done.  In fact, the lighter she could move, the better.  No amount of personal armor was going to save her from a loup garou at the end of the day, but being that much quicker on feet might.

Blazefire was tucked neatly into the weapon wall, untouched and practically waiting for her.

It only took Lightning a moment’s hesitation, and then she was clipping the modified falchion onto the backside of her belt, detaching the other various utility implements from her hip that she knew would be of no use.

When she stepped back out of the armored van, there was a well-known and petite figure waiting for her, hands wringing together in pained anxiety.

“Vanille!” Lightning exclaimed, not even sure what to say.

But Vanille’s eyes said it all before she even spoke.  They were filled with a tempest of emotions: fear, apprehension, sadness...and a resigned familiarity. “So it’s all true then...Fang...she’s...”

Lightning wasn’t sure what she should say or do.  It was clear that Vanille knew just what her sister was, and what was happening now.

“Vanille...”

“I suppose you’re wondering just how all of this has happened.  How you were working with something like that this entire time.”

“No, Vanille, you don’t need to explain...” Lightning began awkwardly before being cut off with a gesture.

The young woman smiled sadly. “But I do, especially you to of all people.”

Lightning waited, unsure.

“I...” Vanille looked away for a moment, staring off into the distance. “I’ve been with Fang always, even after her first transformation.”

_Even when no one else did._

It didn’t need to be spoken for Lightning to hear it.

“After that, Fang and I lived together, and since she we knew she was loup garou, the wizards were able to something.  That’s what her silver bracelets and necklace are, and she’s had them ever since her first transformation.  They’re powerful restraining talismans, given to her by the wizards.  They...they can’t stop the transformation—no more than the wizards can break the curse itself—but with the silver spells, even though she transformed every month, it’s been controlled.  The Beast doesn’t take over, and she can retain herself, even though she always stays isolated, just to be safe.  But if the bindings failed...”

Lightning closed her eyes tightly, and heard her own voice drift up to her ears. “...she’s turned into the same thing...just like she did the first time.”

The same mindless and uncontrolled killing machine, with nothing left of the woman they both knew.

When Lightning opened her eyes, she saw the wetness glimmering in Vanille’s eyes. “Vanille...”

“Please...” Vanille’s voice was desperate and frightened. “I know what’s already happened, but, that’s not Fang out there right now.  That not her!  Please don’t—”

Lightning moved in a second, reaching out clasp Vanille’s shoulder tightly, and feeling the smaller woman quake beneath her grip.  She caught and held the bright green gaze.

“Fang is my partner, Vanille...I don’t care what thing is out there right now.  We’re going to do everything we can to get her back.  _I’m_ going to do everything I can.”

She was still afraid that the woman was going to start crying, but after a moment, Vanille nodded, and then suddenly dove forward to wrap Lightning in a tight embrace.  Her voice, though muffled against Lightning’s sternum, was still strong, if a bit watery.

“Don’t you do anything stupid, Lightning!”

And then Vanille was running back off and away before Lightning could say another word.

Lightning thought of her sister, of herself, of her parents’ caskets as they were lowered into the wet and soggy autumn grounds while their two children watched, one sobbing, and the other silent.

She was going to do everything she could to bring Fang back; they all were.

Movement at her side caught her attention, and this time she turned to see the same short wizard from earlier.

Clearly not in the mood to mince words, the wizard nodded once and held out a handgun magazine. “I stretched it as much as I could, but it was just barely enough to cover this loading.  This is it, officer.  Ten shots.”

Lightning took the ammo back and popped one unused shell out.  The bullet was a gleaming white-silver, coated in what precious metal the wizards had managed to use from her necklace.

“Limited use,” the wizard warned a second time, making sure that his words were clear. “After these shells are spent, that is it.”

She nodded her confirmation.  Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to use the bullets at all.

Yaag returned to them then, his brow as serious and grave as could ever remember.  With Jihl off to wherever she was now, he had assumed control of the SCS command..

He cleared his throat, and in an instant, the squad had assembled around him, alert and at attention.  One at a time, his purple eyes looked at them, taking in their weapons at hand, and what resolve they wore on their faces.

“Officers, dawn is in approximately two hours and thirteen minutes...that means you have two hours and thirteen minutes to play a game of cat and mouse with the loup garou.  Do not let us down.” Yaag passed out watches to everyone, and Lightning saw that they were all synched and counting down what time was left until dawn struck.  The lieutenant turned toward Amodar. “You have it from here.  I need to go tend to matters with the mayor and police chief.”

The all flashed quick salutes, and then focused on Amodar.  He finished fiddling with his watch before addressing them.

“Look, I don’t know what strings Jihl and Yaag and managing to pull, but for the moment, they’ve convinced both the wizards and the mayor that _we_ are the individuals best able to handle the current situation, and that they don’t need to call in the army.”

 _That_ caught Lightning’s attention, and she stopped after strapping on her watch to look at her field leader.  Was he saying...?

Amodar caught her eyes and nodded.  There was no humor or excitement in his eyes, only grave certainty and resignation.

“We cannot afford _any_ other casualties, either on us or civilians.  If we do, we’re getting cut, and the army—which _is_ on standby _as we speak_ —is going to pull in.  And if the army pulls the plug on us, you can bet that it will be even more of a clusterfuck...more casualties...and no option to rescue Fang.  The special ops won’t even hear of it.”

“Amodar...” Lightning’s voice cracked slightly, and she couldn’t entirely form whatever words she had been trying to voice.  This wasn’t just some rogue oddity on the loose, this was _Fang_.  She wasn’t even herself.  She was cursed, almost possessed.  They couldn’t just...

Amodar sighed.  His eyes were steel, but not without some measure of understanding and compassion. “Our objective is to kill time.  We distract the loup garou until dawn arrives, with _no casualties_.  This goes at any costs, and I mean it.  No different than the civilians, we cannot afford to lose any of you.  If push comes to shove...” His gaze hardened, and the compassion was pushed away as he held forth his own silver bullet. “...we shoot to kill.”

* * *

The shipping trainyard was abandoned at these late hours of the night, and S.W.A.T. had already swept through once they decided on the location, making sure to oust any train jumpers and bums that were sleeping near the tracks.

They couldn’t afford any unsuspecting innocents.  Not here and not now.

The Nautilus City trainyard was about to be turned into a warzone.

After intense and relatively short deliberation, the wizards had agreed with Yaag that the open stretch of train tracks and cars would be the best area for the op they were about to pull.  It was just far enough removed from civilian targets, but gave the squad enough space to work within...and all of the shipping crates and trains would be to their advantage.

After all, even though they were off to play a game of cat and mouse, they were hardly the cats in this case.

They were all gathered around the wizards and Yaag, nervously waiting for when their op would commence.

“How do we even know that the loup garou is actually here?” asked Rygdea, his skepticism clear.

“Thaumaturgy...” Kimahri uttered, and one of the wizards nodded his head.

“The curse limits what we can do, but with the blood it left behind at the last fight area, we could manage enough to direct the beast toward an area.” Explained the robed man.

“But you couldn’t fully bind it?  Even with blood?” Lightning wasn’t trying to be accusatory, she simply didn’t understand how even the wizards seemed so powerless before a loup garou.

Thankfully, none of the wizards appeared offended, though it was hard to tell any of their facial expressions beneath the wide brimmed and pointed hats.  Instead, they ushered her closer, and one of the wizards held out a small and glittering magical construct so that she, and the rest of the squad, could better see it.

On closer inspection, Lightning realized that it was an incredibly complex and artificial spider’s web, made of thin threads of silver, with the sample of loup garou blood and fur placed in the epicenter.

“It is a curse, a taint, and one for which there is no cure.  We could redirect it, but you see how it fights the spell even now?”

And Lightning could see that.  The small droplets of blood in the center of the webbing constantly jumped and roiled, as if trying to break free from the intricate design.

“Even now, in the blackest hours of the night, the curse grows stronger under the full moon.  It seeks to break the bindings we placed on it, and it will shortly.”

The wizard pointed with a finger at the lines of the web.  She assumed that they had all initially been a bright and shining white-silver, but a darkness had steadily moved through it, and now only the farthest reaches of the sigil remained untainted by it.

A howl echoed over the night air, and more than a few feet shuffled nervously.

One of the other wizards stepped forward, and nodded his head toward Amodar and the rest of the SCS squad.

“It is time for you now, officers.  Good luck...you’ll need it.”

They nodded, and on Yaag’s command, moved out into the trainyard, quickly going separate ways, while Rygdea stayed behind to transform and fly overhead.  They needed to keep the loup garou busy and engaged, but first, they needed to figure out exactly where it was.

Lightning crossed toward the western portion of the yard, past tracks two and three, moving quickly in her light gear, her fingers periodically brushing over the butt of her gun and the hilt of her sword.  But these were only two of the weapons she had.

On either thumb she now wore a ring, one gold, and one silver, and both given to her by the wizards.  Her squadmates all had similar tokens, giving them temporary use of magic and augmentations they would not otherwise have.

Considering how much of a stink had been made in the past about the price of wizarding services, Lightning didn’t even want to think about how much this particular operation was already costing them.

As far as she was concerned, though, it was entirely worth it, and she was glad that Yaag and Jihl seemed to agree on that matter.

For her, the silver one on her right hand was imbued with a hastening spell, while the gold ring on her left possessed an offensive lightning casting.  The wizard who had given her the rings had warned that they both had very limited usage—something about how magic came from within and didn’t store well.

_Three casts a piece.  No more and no less._

She didn’t want to throw lightning at Fang—werewolf form or no—but she supposed that if a ball of dragonfire didn’t manage to stop her, electricity would hardly be any more of a threat.

Lightning stopped dead in her tracks when a chilling howl carried through the air.  The call sounded like it was coming to the north of her

It was hard to bite back the immediate fear that trickled through her every time she heard the loup garou.  Every basic instinct in her was telling her to flee, was reminding her that she was target prey before a creature whose very nature was designed to hunt her.  She was like a rabbit going against a wolf.

But there was one big difference now.

She had an extra arsenal of magic.

“Haste!”

At the command, she felt the silver ring grow warm against her right thumb, and a moment later there was a cool rushing sensation that flowed from the crown of her head down her back and toward her toes, as though someone had poured a bucket of water over head.

It was bizarrely soothing, and for a moment she was concerned that she had been given the wrong spell ring.

Then she began moving.

There was no strain to her muscles, no rush of power and energy like when she broke into a full sprint, but she suddenly realized that she was moving fast, much faster than any human normally could.  Her legs were pumping at a nearly blinding speed, covering ground and distance faster than the best of racehorses, and at no apparent physical cost to her person.

It was amazing, but there was no time to be distracted.

She gained yards in seconds, and climbed atop one of the trains to get a better view of her surroundings.  Even though it was still in the black of night, the full moon overhead provided ample enough light over the industrial landscape.  Lightning scanned the tracks to the north of her, searching for any sign of movement amongst the cars and rails.

_There!_

“Rygdea!” she spoke urgently into her come device. “Get me eyes on track fourteen.  By the ten-car freighter.”

There was a momentary pause, and then, _“I see it!  Amodar, it’s about a hundred yards to the north-northwest of you!  Farron, try to give some support from the west_ — _Kimhari and Ashe are too far south right now.”_

Lightning jumped down from her perch and began running northeast, but Amodar was there first.

_“I’ve got her on me!”_

Lightning heard snapping and snarling, and gunshots.  She was under two hundred yards from them now.

There was a flash of fire—Amodar using a wizard’s ring.  Then there was a second flash of fire, followed immediately by a fierce and earth-shaking explosion as an oil tanker freight caught fire.  The flames roared up nearly fifty feet high before dying back to smaller but equally furious blaze of fuel that illuminated the area in a hot, orange-yellow light.

Lightning was forced to step back for a moment, putting a hand up and shielding her face from the crinkling heat of the fire.

 _“A little help here if you can...I’m not sure where it is.”_ Amodar’s voice came out strained and heavy, and there was the audible crackle of fire in the background.

“On it!”

Lightning forced herself in toward the burning perimeter of oil, eyes searching.  She stiffened when her eyes detected movement...but was it simply heat, or...?

The loup garou jumped out, wreathed in flame and completely unaffected by the severe burns inflicted on it, though they were already healing over.

It was only through sheer force of will that Lightning was able to keep her ground.  She threw out her left arm and shouted the wizard’s spell word in a breathy exhalation of fear.

“Thundara!”

The ring warmed against her thumb, and then the air in front of her hand shattered in a blinding arc of magical discharge, stray bolts of lightning crackling off to the sides.

The electricity hit the monster square in the chest, knocking it backward.

Lightning wasted no time in bothering to see how long it was going to stay down, she was on her feet and running, already using a second cast from her silver ring.

“Haste!”

The now-familiar wash of cool spread over her body, and she took off, speaking into her comm. device.

“I’ve got her on me!  She’s at track eight, just after the maintenance house.”

She risked a quick glance backward, and saw the black outline of the loup garou, blurred with movement as it tracked her on all fours, chasing her at top speed.

It was fast, but with her speed spell, Lightning was faster.

“ _Take her toward the center point of track six, if you can, Farron.  We’ve got Kimahri and Ashe in place, and Rygdea’s got better eyes there.”_

She slowed down for a brief second, allowing the distance between herself and the loup garou to lessen. 

“Come on,” Lightning hissed under her breath. “Just keep following me.”

To ensure that it kept interest, she released a second blast of thunder magic.  It was a wild and quick shot, only skimming the beast rather than striking it full on.  But it had the intended effect.  Another angry snarl was loosened, and even though there was a momentary pause, the loup garou renewed its chase tenfold, its killing intent more clear than ever.

Track six was fast approaching, with a huge line of freight cars stationary and waiting on the track.

 _“See if you can’t use the freight cars as a barrier, Farron.”_ That was Rygdea, presumably flying overhead, or already perched on a sniper’s ledge. _“Try to trap her in.  Ashe and Kimarhi are in place now.  They’ll try to draw her attention shortly.”_

“Roger.”

Lightning beelined for the train, and a moment later heard the sound of gunfire, and then of bullets both striking the hard ground and flesh.

There was a roar of fury behind her that sent goosebumps of fear shivering across her skin.

However, even with the new source of attacks, the monster showed no sign of dropping its pursuit of Lightning.  She threw her last thunder spell at it, but this time it barreled right through the magic, no more deterred by the electricity than by the standard lead bullets.

Lightning didn’t even pause, instead continuing to run full speed with the last remnants of her Haste, abruptly sliding under the train car before popping back up on her feet and covering another hundred yards as the spell fully wore off.

The loup garou didn’t stop either.

It careened full on into the train, and with a hideous and ear-shrieking groan, metal twisted and screeched apart, and train cars were torn straight off of the track in an explosion of metal and dust.

She brought her arms up automatically, legs in a defensive crouch as she desperately scanned the cloud of dirt.

“Does anyone have eyes right now?”

_“I can’t see through the dust!”_

_“Visual obscurants prevent confirmation.  Everyone stay alert!  We know it’s in there.”_

Lightning approached the dust cloud cautiously, one hand hovering above her Sig, and the other above her Blazefire, eyes constantly scanning and alert.

She had learned from earlier; the loup garou could come from anywhere.

As the dust finally began to settle, several shots were fired off, and Lightning broke into a sprint in the direction of the noise.

 _“We got her_ — _no, Kimahri!”_

There was a yell of pain that echoed through the air, followed by the distinctive sound that Lightning now recognized as a spell being cast.

Lightning jumped over a twisted segment of a train car, and turned upon a scene to which she had arrived not a moment too soon.

Kimahri was stumbling back, his forearm slashed open, and blood pouring from the fresh lacerations.

And barely ten feet away from him was the loup garou, shaking off massive sheets of ice from its body, the result of whatever spell had been cast from Kimahri’s wizard ring.  And it’s attention was clearly on the ronso laying injured in front of it.

Lightning acted without even thinking, firing three quick shots from her handgun.  One went wide, but the other twos landed, piercing the loup garou in the upper arm and shoulder.

The loup garou let out a screeching bellow of pain, and Lightning saw that, unlike before, the wounds she had just inflicted were open and bleeding, with no indication of closing up and healing anytime soon.

Glowing green eyes turned and glared utter hatred at her, Kimahri now forgotten.

_Shit shit shit..._

As soon as the oddity began to move, Lightning was already reacting.

Another caste from her Haste augmentation ring had her moving beyond top speed again.  This time, however, she couldn’t run.  To do so would be to abandon her squadmates.

So instead she drew Blazefire from its sheath.

The loup garou might be impossibly fast, but with Haste, so was Lightning.

She baited the creature, dodging in and out as she could, landing quick and glancing strikes with every opportunity available.  They of course healed over almost instantly, but they served their intended purpose, which was to agitate and provoke the deadly oddity, keeping its attention firmly locked onto Lightning, even as she saw Ashe helping Kimahri up and away—which was exactly what she had been hoping for.

Lightning continued to pull the loup garou toward her, further from the mess of train cars and her injured comrade.  The lupine theriomorph was a ball of fury and rage, taking angry wild swings and snaps.  Any single one of the attacks, should they connect directly, were undoubtedly lethal, but with her Haste still active, Lightning was able to maintain the upper edge, tenuous though it was.  And they were creating fair distance now.

Amodar’s voice spoke through the comm device and into her ear. _“Nice job handling that, Farron.  We’ve got Kimahri pulled to safety now, so you can turn tail and get out.  We’ll regroup and adopt another strategy in a minute.”_

She managed a breathy “roger that” as she dared one last slash, sending droplets of blood flying before the wound healed over.

Lightning danced back, and felt her foot stumble over a piece of debris.  Her spell was already fading, faster than what the prior two had.  She need to get out now.

Almost as if it could sense her weakness, the loup garou snarled and lunged at her, giving a backhanded slash that she barely saw coming.

She brought Blazefire up, but her guard was not enough. 

“ _Farron!_ ”

The inhuman blow threw her backward, sending her sword flying from her grip.

Lightning sat up, trying to scramble and shake the daze of the strike from her, but the loup garou was already towering over her, and the Haste was now gone.

There was no time for anyone to rescue her.  She had deliberately isolated herself in order to prevent just this scenario from happening to any of her squadmates, and now, in a cruel twist of fate, she was about to succumb to it herself.

Her Sig was in hand before she even realized, arm shaking even as she pointed the last of her silver bullets directly at the loup garou’s—at _Fang_ ’s—head.

Her wizard rings were tapped dry, her Blazefire lay stranded many feet behind her, and she would never be able to get to it faster than the beast would be on her.

There was no choice left. 

Lightning steeled herself, and began squeezing down on the trigger

_“Farron, wait!”_

The synchronized watch on her wrist began beeping as its timer ran out, and felt, for the first time in the entire long night, hope.  It blossomed in her chest, growing with the gray light in the skies.

Dawn had arrived.

The light of day broke over the horizon line, and a pale beam of sunlight washed across the tracks and train cars.

It lit up the black form of the loup garou, chasing away the darkness that seemed to cling to it and making it seem like normal, animal fur.

Rather than continuing its attack, it tossed back its head and howled, low, chilling, and almost mournful.

The sunlight flared, forcing Lightning to tear her gaze away and blink.

And Fang...Fang crashed to the ground, now as human and naked as the day she had been born, only a low groan of exhaustion and pain signifying that she had returned to them at long last.

* * *

There had been no time for Lightning after that.  Fang had been bustled away, and Lightning, like everyone else in the SCS, had been kept  answering a million and one questions and helping to tie together the loose ends left over from the night.  Of all things, it was Vanille who finally gave Lightning an excuse to escape the madhouse of cleanup and reports in the immediate aftermath.

And as Lightning bounded up the stairs to Fang and Vanille’s apartment, she again checked the quick text that she had been sent.

_This is Vanille.  Please, I need your help.  It’s Fang._

She didn’t give a damn what reports needed to filled and what paperwork had to be done.  She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep in nearly thirty hours now, there was no immediate threat on the city, and _her partner needed her_.

She only barely touched her knuckles to the door before it was opened. 

Vanille looked exhausted and frazzled, and could Lightning really blame her?

_Eden knows what I look like..._

“Vanille!” rushed Lightning. “Fang...is she...is everything....what...?”

Vanille made a shushing sound and ushered Lightning in through the doorway.  There were deep circles under the young coroners eyes.

“Fang is...well she’s here and alive, but...” Her light green eyes turned toward one of the closed doors past the living room—presumably Fang’s room.  Vanille shook her head. “The chief M.E. just called me again.  They want me downtown now...what with the bodies still to be handled...” Vanille looked down toward the floor, and her voice dropped. “And with my prior experience with loup garou...”

That might be the case, but Lightning was still flabbergasted by it. “But Fang’s _your family_.  Surely they can’t expect—”

Vanille shook her head. “It’s not just that, Lightning.  I already know that the captain of your division is doing as much as she can, but, if me being so willing to aid in the aftermath can help...”

Then every little bit counted.  Lightning hadn’t even thought that far ahead.  Would the higher ups draw the line?  Surely they couldn’t go after Fang, and Lightning couldn’t believe that Jihl, after standing against the loup garou herself in an attempt to contain it, would so easily let one of her own be pulled from her squad.  Not to mention, the wizards had already placed new restraints on her, a fresh set of silver bracelets and necklaces enchanted to be even stronger that the prior ones.

Still, hadn’t the entire point of the first set been to prevent the disaster that had happened this past night from ever occurring.  Sure, the magical restraints had worked, and for over a decade, but they had ultimately failed before a calculated and perfectly timed attack.  A frown tugged at Lightning’s lips, and she remembered the shadowed figure on the rooftop, felt a foreboding weight press on her mind.  She might not be an oddity, but Lightning knew the sheer amount of power it took to do something like manipulate the moon.  There had been almost no time to discuss the lead up to Fang’s loup garou transformation while they had been cleaning up, but anyone with the faintest lick of common sense could tell that serious things had been put into motion over the last day, and Lightning felt the smallest thread of fear whisper yet again through her thoughts.

When Vanille continued speaking, Lightning was jerked back to the present, reminded that she was not here for speculations.  There were more urgent matters at hand.

“It’s also...” Vanille stopped, looking back toward the closed door that Lightning presumed led to Fang’s bedroom. “She’s not letting me help her, Lightning.  It’s like she’s walling herself away again, but it’s even worse than...than before.  She won’t even let me near her.”

Vanille phone buzzed, but she quickly silenced it.  Lightning knew without asking that it was the morgue calling yet again.

“Please, Lightning, try to help her.  I don’t know who else can get through to her  But, please, try.”

What Lightning could do that Vanille hadn’t already seemed uncertain, but Lightning nodded her head.  If things were this bad...she was not going to leave her partner—she was not going to leave _Fang_ —alone.

Lightning tried to adopt her most soothing but still commanding voice.

“I’ve got this, Vanille.  Fang...” She had to swallow for a moment, feeling an abrupt surge of emotion catch in her throat. “Fang means more to me than what I can say.”

Something is what she said seemed to relax Vanille, and though all the same intensive concern and distress was still present in the young coroner, she nodded and tried to smile.  It was a start.

“I knew you would understand.  I’ll try to get back as soon as I can, but please, please call me if something happens.”

“I will.”

Then Vanille took her hasty leave of the apartment, casting one last worried glance back before she closed the door behind her.

Now by herself, Lightning’s attention turned toward Fang’s room.  She approached the closed door, and felt her heartbeat thud loudly in her ears.

She knocked once, and then entered before anything could be said.

Fang sat hunched over on her bed, her face in her hands, and a curtain of dark hair covering her features from Lightning’s gaze.

“Fang...” she called out softly.

There was no immediate answer or movement.  She took another step into the room.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Fang’s voice was hoarse, raw with a torrent of emotion and unspoken agony.

Lightning stopped in the middle of taking her next step, suddenly struck by a wave of uncertainty.  Fang hadn’t even wanted Vanille, so why should Lightning think she had any better of a chance at getting through?

She stared at the beaten and defeated figure on the bed, a picture that didn’t resemble the partner she had known in the least.

In the wake of that thought, she couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, did she really know the woman in front of her at all?

Over the course of a single night she had gone from trusted confidant to a literal monster, carving a swathe of bodies in her terrible wake.

But the twinkle of new silver bracelets on her arms reminded Lightning that this wasn’t the loup garou in front of her.  This was Fang, and Lightning felt something in her break and cave at the clear anguish Fang was caught in.

“I’m not leaving.”

It was a statement, simple but absolute, and Lightning said it calmly and with as much authority as she could muster.  She wasn’t going to leave, not unless Fang threw her out of the door with her own two hands.

When there was no immediate protestation, Lightning determinedly finished walking toward the bed, sitting down next to Fang, even if the other woman refused to meet her gaze.

Fang finally spoke. “Did Vanille send you to check on me?”

“Does it matter if she did?” countered Lightning.

There was only silence.  Lightning let it continue on for another few seconds before breaking it again.

“Talk to me, Fang...please.”

Not even that got her a response, at which point she sighed heavily.

“I’m your partner, Fang.” Lightning only felt marginally guilty for pulling this card.  If it got Fang to talk... “You owe me that much.”

That got something. 

She saw Fang’s shoulders slump even further with guilt, but the woman at last pulled her hands from her face, letting them drop lifelessly into her lap.  Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment before words finally came forth.

“You know...I’m assuming Vanille told you some of it.”

Lightning nodded slowly. “She said that it’s a curse, laid down on a distant family line of yours.  That it was...unbreakable.”

“Yes...I don’t even know the who or why of it.  What was done, why the curse was cast...it’s lost to history.  All I know is that I’m blood of a cursed line somewhere in my heritage, and that the curse must be passed on.”

Fang leaned her head back, eyes closed and breathing deeply.  With her hair fallen back from her face, the wet sheen on her cheeks and eyelashes became visible to Lightning.

“My family...we grew up in Oerba.  A small town way out west of Eden.  A lot of agriculture out there.  My parents owned a ranch on the outskirts of town.  It wasn’t much, but it was ours.  Just me, mom, and dad.  Couldn’t have asked for anything more...”

Her voice wavered and broke, but Lightning said nothing, allowing Fang what time she needed to collect herself before continuing.

“Mom and Dad never talked about any other family, and both sets of grandparents were gone, so...they couldn’t have had any idea...there was no way any of us would have known...” Fang shook her head and tucked her chin back down, turning an empty gaze toward the far wall. “When I was eleven, whoever the prior curse-holder was died...and I became the the next of kin to bear the Burden of the Beast.”

As she spoke, Fang’s eyes shut again, and a hand drifted up to absentmindedly finger the vivid tattoo on her left arm, tracing across the stylized and savage maw that was inked there.

“On the next full moon—I remember it was the fourth one of that year—I transformed for the first time.  I guess the only measure of mercy is that I don’t remember any of it.”

Lightning didn’t need to ask to know what had happened, what the results would have been with a loup garou released on an unsuspecting house and family, and she felt a sharp pain blossom beneath her sternum.  How could she say anything that had any real meaning?  Lightning had lost her parents, yes, but to have lost them because of her own actions...what could she even begin to say that Fang hadn’t already heard from Vanille?

_Oh, Fang..._

Her eyes were open now, but the normally bright and verdant gaze was glazed, and as Fang held her hands out in front of her, Lightning knew that she seeing only memories of the past.

“I killed them.  Every last one.” Her voice was a whisper, but it echoed through the room loudly. “My entire family, most of the village...all dead, and by my own hand.  I’m covered in their blood...always.  Just like right now.”

Lightning acted without thinking.  She leaned over, enveloping the woman in a tight hug.  Lightning was hardly one for physical intimacies on a day to day basis, but no thought was required in this.  She felt helplessly limited in what she could say or do, but she was not going to let Fang go through this alone.

She pressed herself to the Fang, thinking fiercely of how much she wanted to shelter and help Fang shoulder the pain, and willing that feeling to come through her actions.

Fang struggled feebly at first, as if trying to push away.

 _No,_ Lightning thought. _I’m not going to let you do this to yourself.  Not again, Fang_.

No one deserved to punish themselves like this, certainly not as a child, and no more as an adult.

Lightning knew that she was no match for Fang in terms of physical strength; the loup garou could push her away in an instant if she so desired.  Even so, Lightning wrapped her arms around Fang, pulling her close, and pulling her tight.  There was not much that they could do, but she was not going to let go.  Not without a fight.

And Fang didn’t push her back.  Her weak struggles slowed, and she pressed into Lightning, shaking and shivering, utterly defeated.

“Shhh...Fang.  It’s alright.  Everything’s going to be alright.  I promise.  I’ll make sure.” She didn’t know exactly what she could do, but she would try her damndest.

Lightning felt Fang’s arms suddenly wrap tightly around her sides, clinging as silent sobs finally overtook her and her wet tears seeped against Lightning’s neck.

She instinctively pressed a soft kiss into Fang’s hair, right atop the crown of her head, much like she used to when comforting Serah.

Fang began to relax against her, and Lightning found herself whispering wordless nothings under her breath, quiet reassurances that were punctuated by her frequent kisses against the wild mess of dark hair.

Slowly, very slowly, they fell back into the bed, and Lightning pressed her lips against the edge of Fang’s hairline, and then again against the woman’s cool brow as they nestled against the soft comforter and pillows.

Then Fang tilted her head up slightly, and Lightning didn’t even stop to hesitate.  She finished her motion, and brushed her lips against Fang’s.

It was a tender, gentle kiss, filled with the same assurance and assuagement that had been present in the others, but Lightning felt herself stop breathing as soon as it occurred, waiting to see what would happen, and feeling her muscles tense and tighten.  For the longest of moments, Fang stared at her, and Lightning swore that it was as though she was looking into Lightning’s soul.  Then the watery green eyes closed again, and Fang turned and nestled herself into Lightning, her head resting easily against Light’s neck.

Lightning felt her lungs tentatively begin working again, and she slowly relaxed, readjusting her arms back around Fang, gladly giving what little peace and comfort she could offer, and allowing the exhaustion to finally overtake them both.

 

_Report filed.  Case closed._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a quick note to those more language affluent readers out there, yes, I realize that "loup garou" means "werewolf" in French, but I decided to roll with it (off of heavy inspiration/basis from Jim Butcher's Harry Dresden novel, "Fool Moon").
> 
> Also, I will put a short disclaimer here: I am about to begin my first year of grad school, in which I will be embarking on a journey to gain a Ph.D. at the end of my name. As exciting as this all is, it also means that my writing and updates are likely to sharply drop off. I apologize, but know that I by no means intend to quit writing; I will simply be limited to writing when I can.
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


	6. Case 006: Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes are afoot in many ways both in personal matters and at the SCS. In the wake of new case assignment to protect a high profile target, Lightning struggles to balance her life, and these changes.

The SCS headquarter building felt almost eerie without Jihl.  Her absence weighed surprisingly heavy in the air, and Lightning couldn’t help but look up yet again toward the open door to her office...an office that was Yaag’s for the time being.

Until Jihl returned from her captain’s probation next week, Yaag, as the senior-ranking officer, was running things; and he seemed no happier about it than the rest of them, stomping through the hallways when he wasn’t holed up in the captain’s office by himself, clearly resentful over the formal lieutenant’s suit he had to wear while he remained in charge of operations.

The entire mood at the SCS since they had returned to full operations just five days ago had been downcast, to say the least.  When Lightning arrived back at work the day after the loup garou incident, it had been to a surprisingly clipped squad announcement by Yaag that the captain was on probation, and they were to continue work as normal without her in the meantime.

But that did not mean that anything felt even remotely normal.

Certainly, their line of work was serious—they were in the business of controlling and eliminating oddity-related crime—yet there had always been an undeniably relaxed and almost playful atmosphere in place at HQ.  It was the spirit of camaraderie, she realized, no different than in any other department; and given all of the recent events...well, it was no wonder that HQ felt unnervingly off foot.

As terrifying as Jihl could be, she was still _their_ captain, and Lightning had no doubt that the squad would not feel normal to any of them until she had returned.  Just exactly when that would happen, though, was the true question.

Lightning shook her head the barest fraction, gritting her teeth and drowning out the drone of her squadmates working in the background.

And then there was Fang.

Today was her first official day back to work since the whole...incident...had occurred.  It was almost hard to believe it had been less than a week since that seemingly endless night.

How Fang had managed to come back so quickly with no apparent repercussions or fallout was beyond Lightning’s knowledge, though she knew without asking that it was surely related to why Jihl was on captain’s probation for the time being.

She had walked in through the front door yesterday morning, just as everyone else had filled into the office, her green eyes still looking somewhat fragile and nervous as they darted around the room.

Everything went silent, but then Amodar had walked straight up to her, clapping a hand loudly across her shoulder, his eyes crinkling warmly and a great smile lifting his face.

“Welcome back, Fang.  It’s good to have you with us again.”

And just like that, some sense of tension that had been in the air as much as in Fang’s rigid shoulders finally broke, and a sense of normalcy returned at last for everyone.

Except for Lightning.

Even now, she remained tense and strained, her stomach roiling with unspoken unease and stress.

_It should have been me congratulating Fang back into the SCS.  Her partner should have welcomed her in first, not another one of her squadmates…_

And yet Lightning had remained frozen, uncertain.  It was an uncertainty and worry that continued to plague her, that made her avoid looking Fang in the eye, or meeting her alone in the hallway or locker room.

It was, in all honestly, behavior that was entirely uncharacteristic of Lightning, but she was too unsettled to bother changing her tactics, and with good reason, by her way of thinking.

Lightning’s eyes gazed through her computer monitor, unseeing and glazed.  Her fingers ghosted over her lips, and she wondered just what delerium had possessed her to actually kiss Fang.  Oh, it hadn’t been some sort of soulful confession followed by a romantic kiss; it had been a quick, almost absent-minded thing.  She had honestly been comforting Fang, trying to provide some source of respite.  She hadn’t _meant_ to kiss Fang, at least not in that moment.

It would be a lie to say that she hadn’t contemplated the thought before, that she hadn’t begun to wonder, especially over the last few months, what it be like to know Fang on a more physically intimate level.

After all, Fang was stunningly beautiful by nearly anyone’s standards; Lightning had seen that from the moment she had first laid eyes on her, not that she initially cared.  Lightning knew as much as the next person just how anathema it was to become involved with a fellow coworker, and she never possessed any intent to do so.  And yet...and yet...something had been steadily changing between the two of them during the course of the past few months.  Perhaps it had been longer building than that, but it was only within those past weeks that Lightning had found herself consciously aware of it, had suddenly found herself fighting back the instinctive urge to tug Fang in close, to cup her cheek pull her in for a kiss. 

It was more than a simple partner’s connection between them.  There was a certain magnetism, an energy and heat to their exchanges and interactions that all too frequently made Lightning’s stomach jump with butterflies, and made goosebumps shiver down her back.

She was confident that Fang felt it, too, but to have actually acted, to have done something and breached that unspoken and professional barrier between the two of them...Lightning couldn’t decide if she was more nervous over the fact that Fang had accepted it at the time, or that Fang had yet to bring it up since.

Her stomach flipped again, and she anxiously took a gulp of water in a futile attempt to calm it.  Yet she half choked trying to swallow it down, leading to a fit of heavy coughing that drew stares from across the office, and from across her desk.  She waved down the concern before Fang could even open her mouth, and fought back the sudden surge of a blush in her cheeks while she gazed downward toward her papers.

Really, what had she been thinking that night?  When she had gone over to comfort Fang at Vanille’s request, it hadn’t been with the intent to...to…

.. _.try to seduce her?_

Lightning internally railed at the more sarcastic half of her brain.

After  finally waking from her exhausted sleep that night, she had found that neither of them had moved, and Fang was still heavily nestled into her neck, not yet awake.

There had been no initial panic on her part, no reservations that had sprung quite so quickly to life within her heart and head.  While still in the foggy haze of waking up, Lightning had only found a strange comfort to be taken from how Fang was curled against her, their bodies pressed tight and yet still comfortable, separated by only a few layers of clothes.  No, the panic had only taken root as her mind finally began to clear the mist of sleep from it, and the light of day gave her pause on what might yet come from the rash actions she had taken.

So when Vanille had picked that exact moment to enter the apartment, Lightning had scrambled to get out of bed and to take her leave, suddenly no longer comfortable or willing to stick around and face the potential questions and consequences from either Vanille or Fang.  She simply didn’t feel ready for it.

And yet here, back at SCS, nearly a week later and with Fang back and fully reinstated, she had yet to confront the issue with Fang.  She had been steadfastly avoiding it, and knew as much, an unusual tactic for her.

In the day since Fang had returned to the station, there had been more than enough paperwork and case work to do to keep everyone busy, a boon for which Lightning was actually more than grateful.  She had been meticulous in avoiding any personal or private moments with her partner, a strange thing considering that they _were_ partners.

But she had seen the periodic look in Fang’s eyes.  The glinting and pointed curiosity, the questions that welled up just below the surface.  And any time Lightning had recognized that impulse welling up in Fang, it had been all she could manage to hastily make a retreat, unwilling to face the questions that were being silently posed before her.

It was cowardice, plain and simple, and though Lightning normally fumed at such a perceived weakness, she couldn’t bring herself to confront Fang and own up to the answers that she owed.

For the time being, Lightning could only hope to stave off her partner and formulate a plan of her own, using whatever avoidance tactics at her disposal until then.

She risked a glance up from her computer, and felt her stomach drop out when Fang met her gaze evenly back.

_Oh no..._

Fang had that same measuring but uncertain look on her face again, the one that Lightning just knew meant that her partner was about to bite the bullet and ask, and this time Lightning had no convenient escape from it.  There were no other squadmates near them, and Lightning had only just left minutes earlier for a bathroom and coffee break.

Her eyes flickered frantically for a way out, to no avail.  Fang opened her mouth to speak, and Lightning felt the panic from deep within her gut rise up, paralyzing her muscles and flooding her system.

Then the door to the captain’s office was thrown open, and Yaag strode out, readjusting the high collar of his formal lieutenant’s jacket yet again.  His steely eyes cut across the room like daggers, demanding immediate and complete attention, and stilling all talk and movement in the room almost as well as Jihl could have.

“We’ve got a situation downtown,” he said, all business and efficiency. “Ashe and Kimhari, Farron and Fang, get down to the Temple of Etro on Main Street.  Scene’s already cordoned off, and there are no human casualties, but we’re responding to an attack on the high priestess of Etro.  Get down there, and take things over.  The cops who responded are waiting.  I want a full report on what the hell happened.”

Kimhari and Ashe were gathering their things before Yaag was even finished talking, each of them flashing a sharp salute.

“Well, let’s go then,” suggested Lightning, already up and moving toward the back door and the building garage.

She heard Fang’s chair scrape across the floor as the woman got up, but the entire way to the door, she had to exert all her self control to remain facing forward, for she could feel Fang’s eyes following her, and could nearly hear the unspoken questions hanging in the air.

Lightning had managed to evade them yet again, but she wasn’t sure how much further she could keep running.

* * *

They drove directly up the front of the temple, lights and sirens on in order to pass through the barricaded street section.  The sun was setting, setting off a cascade of red and orange that reflected across the windowed buildings of the downtown area, casting a picturesque lighting onto the historical temple site.

Lightning was hardly in the mood for aesthetics.  As she closed the car door behind her and walked alongside her squadmates, her attention was firmly fixed ahead, to the realm that was about to become their crime scene.

The entire entry to the Temple was cordoned off with the distinctive bright yellow caution tape and guarded by several police officers, keeping the growing crowd of curious spectators and news reporters on the sidewalks from entering the building.

With Kimahri leading them, though, they had no trouble making their way to the forefront of the crowd, quickly ducking under the tape and into the front doors of the temple after flashing their badges to the cops on guard.  For once, the regular cops seemed all too ready to hand over their scene to the SCS.

Lightning did take note of how the guards kept their hands anxiously hovering over their batons and guns, nervous and alert despite the closed crime scene and the presence of the new officers.  Her knuckles flexed automatically in response, and her fingers ghosted over a holster.  She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

After all, Lightning had been to the Temple of Etro in Nautilus many times over during her life.  She and Serah had been raised in this city, and when their parents had still been alive and Lightning had been but a child, they had visited the temple nearly every week, paying devotions.  Lightning herself had long since grown out of returning to the Temple outside of the occasional holiday, or when Serah dragged her along—Serah, by comparison, still frequented the Temple, even if Lightning did not.

Though it had been some time since her most recent visit, the interior of the Temple was, at first glance, everything that Lightning remembered.

The floors, pillars, and seats were all of the same seamless and opaque black diorite, polished to an impeccable and stately gleam.  But beyond the pristine rock, much like at the Temple of Bhunivelze, the whole of the temple was decorated in glimmering, diamond-like crystal, all of the same clear green and blue hues.  It curled about the pillars and up to the arcade, encrusted the high vaulted and coffered ceiling, outlined the exquisite panes of stained glass.  And it culminated at the very back of the Temple.  Other houses of worship possessed altars, great tables by which to give prayers to the gods.  But the in the House of Etro, there was no such thing.

Where the granite benches for the devoted ended, open floor reigned, and as it approached the back of the transept it became overgrown with crystal, culminating in a vast blue throne that grew out of the diamond-like mineral.

_Etro’s throne._

Each and every Temple of Etro had one.  The throne of the goddess, forever empty as she watched, silent and unseen, over the souls of all men and women when they passed from the world of the living. 

Lightning had consciously repress the ingrained urge to reach up and touch her necklace of Etro.  Her totem, one of the few material objects left to her from her mother, was long gone.  Its precious silver had spent in bullet casings.

She chased the stray thought away before it could lead down that unnecessary path of dilemmas and questioning.

There was a task at hand.

While the general appearance of the Temple remained the same as always, there were several outstanding… _additions_...to the decor.  As they walked down the aisle and toward the throne of Etro where the first response officers were, there grew larger and larger piles of a thick, almost gelatinous and putrid yellow substance.  Kimahri stopped at one of the piles closest to them, daring to grab some of the ooze are rub it testingly between his blackened claws.

A rumbling and pensive growl emanated from his throat, and they all looked closely at the bizarre gel.

“Is that…?” questioned Ashe.  Her arms were folded and her gaze cold but curious.

Kimahri straightened and wiped his claws on a fabric at his belt, nodding. “Flan guts.”

Lightning tried to keep her nostrils from flaring too much.  _Disgusting_.

At least they knew one party that had been involved in whatever happened here.

“SCS, I take it?  About time you guys got here.”

Lightning had grown used to hearing such words from other cops, but this time it lacked the usual acidity or sarcasm.  Instead, she noted how the officer calling them over toward the throne seemed relieved, desperate to hand things over to them.

Based off her experience the past year in the SCS, that was never a good thing.

Though there was no physical change, Lightning could practically feel Fang, Ashe, and Kimahri all mentally buckle down and prepare themselves for whatever was about to be dumped into their laps.

Fang casually waved off the uniformed officers. “We’ll take it from here then, lads.  Thanks for the business.”

That predictably earned them a few rolled eyes, but the gathering of cops dispersed, leaving behind the SCS members, and just two other people with them.

Most people would have first looked toward the grown man who stood off to the side, but Lightning knew better.  Her attention was immediately fastened onto the petite, seemingly fragile young woman that was seated on a simple folding chair, dragged out to be her perch from some unknown bowels of the Temple

But for all that she appeared dainty, barely just a woman, her verdant eyes were more unflinching and ghostly than any adult, seeing beyond them and to a plane that Lightning could only just begin to comprehend.

She was the priestess of the Temple, but more than just its caretaker.  She was one of the chosen, touched by the Goddess Beyond the Void herself, a seeress.  Lightning had only ever seen the seeress from afar before, but she knew well just what kind of oddity the young priestess was.  Through her eyes, time was liquid, and the future was far more easily glimpsed.

Lightning inclined her head to the priestess as they crowded around in, and her squadmates followed in turn.  But before any of them could begin, another spoke.

“So you are the squad sent to handle this.”

That came from the looming shadow just behind the priestess.  The owner of the voice stepped fully into the light, and Lightning’s eyes focused on the individual she knew to be the Guardian of the Temple, the diademed warrior whose sole responsibility was to bodyguard and look over the seeress herself.

He was her hidden protector, her silent champion, kept private and away from even the eyes of the worshippers, appearing only when his skills were needed to. 

But when he did appear, what a sight he made.

He was tall, easily reaching eye level with Kimahri, but slender where the ronso was broad.  It was not say as though he looked weak, though, for even Lightning could easily discern the layers of dense and well defined muscle beneath his form-fitting black and purple body armor.  She didn’t need to look closely to know that it was the highest quality fiber weave mesh and ceramic plating.

He was tan-skinned with piercingly violet eyes, and pale hair that fell nearly halfway down his back.  Such long hair seemed odd for a warrior, even if his bangs were held back from his face by a patterned headband, but if Lightning had any questions about his innate martial skill they were silenced by the weapon he casually bore.

Over the silhouette of one shoulder rose a massive and absolutely wicked looking sword, a two-handed and sharply curved khopesh, the traditional weapon of temple warriors for eons past.  It was strapped to his back, and for all of the ornate designs along the hilt and broad blade, the leather-wrapped handle was well worn, and the man carried it with an ease that bespoke volumes of comfortable use with the seemingly oversized blade.

There were only a select few people outside of the police and military who would be allowed to openly bear arms before officers, particularly in a crime scene.  But considering just where this crime scene was, and just who was standing before them...

_Yes_ , Lightning thought to herself, _a Guardian of Etro is definitely an exception to that rule._

Kimarhi inclined his head toward the guardian, his eyes never breaking contact with the protector in a traditional warrior’s greeting.

“I am Kimahri Ronso, and we are from the Special Cases Squad,” he flashed his badge for further reassurance and proof, to which the hard-eyed guardian gave a curt nod, though he kept his ground.

The priestess inclined her head graciously. “Thank you for coming.  This is Caius Ballad, my bodyguard, and I am Yeul Nsu-Paddra: priestess, seer, and caretaker of this Temple of Etro.  And within approximately one week’s time, I am supposed to be dead.”

She said the words as calmly as any normal person would have reported the weather, and Lightning blinked hard, doubting at first what her ears had told her.  That doubt was quashed when she recognized the same look of disbelief all of her squadmates’ faces

Fang spoke first, voicing the thing that they were all thinking. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Caius shifted, and his tall figure suddenly became wary, almost menacing, even though he had barely moved, and his hands were no closer to his sword hilt than a minute earlier.

“Please, Caius, at ease.  They are only trying to do their jobs.”

The scowl on the warrior’s face grew more pronounced, darkening his brow, but he nodded ever so slightly and took a half step backward.

Lightning slowly released the breath she had been holding, feeling the others alongside her do the same.

Yeul rearranged her hands onto her lap, fixing them all with her calm but surprisingly piercing stare.

“Now, as I said, in approximately one week’s time, I will be dead.”

Ashe motioned her hands respectively toward the priestess. “My apologies, Lady of Etro, but how are you so certain of this?”

Even as she asked the question, though, Ashe’s eyes flickered to the single round jewelstone that hung in a circlet across Yeul’s forehead.  It was spring green, neither too vibrant nor too dull; most notably, though, it was the exact same hue as the priestess’ own eyes, thus giving the rather eerie impression of having a third, permanently opened eye centered across her head.

Yeul’s smiled at the question, though her smile was thin, lacking any true amusement.  Then she spoke.

“I have Seen it.”

The way it was said, filled with a certainty that was beyond the purview of any mortal knowledge, caused a shiver to run through Lightning.  It felt as though the room had suddenly chilled.

Ashe, however, was not so easily deterred. “And of this you are certain?  Have you Seen every path?  You have Seen this as your true moment of death?”

Caius shifted behind the priestess, clearly agitated, but it took only a hand motion from his mistress to settle him.

Slowly, Yeul shook her head, her eyes regretful. “To See a full moment is a difficult thing.  I have not seen all outcomes, only the most probable in this case, and as the week proceeds it grows more and more certain, consuming the other Visions.”

“Then…?”

Caius cut in, his voice heavy with emotion. “No!  It is not a certainty.  Not yet.  Is that not the case, Lady?”

His voice was nearly pleading at the end, and Lightning shuddered to think of being placed as ward over a charge who was doomed to die, making their protector’s efforts meaningless.

Yeul nodded, though, her response was slow, in contrast her bodyguard’s fervent voice.

“This is true.  The Goddess Beyond the Veil has not shown a single pathway to me in this.  What I See is only a fraction of the future, and limited.  No mind, oddity or otherwise, can perceive the whole of time as a god can.  The strain would be too much.”

Which made Lightning wonder just how much strain even Yeul’s “limited” gift placed on her.

Yeul’s eyes were suddenly on her, infinite and pitying, and Lightning knew without asking that the priestess had read the silent questions within her mind, and it made her shiver involuntarily,

“It is a great deal of strain...for no mortal was meant to to bear the burden of a god or goddess’ vision.” Her smooth and pale brow wrinkled suddenly, as though plagued by a headache.  Before Lightning could even think to offer words back, though, Caius knelt by the priestess, one gloved hand resting gently on her shoulder, his face tender but pained.

“Please, Yeul, do not overtax yourself.  It is not worth it.” Lightning could see the mixture of adoration and resolve present in Caius’ every look and touch.

_He’s in love with her,_ she realized abruptly.  But was it all that surprising?  The man’s life had been dedicated to serving the priestess’ every wish, her every need, guarding her day in and day out.  Was it so surprising then that he loved her as well?

It was then that vestige from past memories and knowledge suddenly was called to the forefront of Lightning’s mind.  Talk of how the gift of the Goddess was also arguably a curse betimes, cutting short the lifespan of her seers.  Lightning felt an unexpected welling of pity rise up in her chest, but she forced it back down.  No amount of pity could not change the fates.

Once Yeul seemed to have recovered herself, Kimahri proceeded with the usual line of questioning; did they know who had attacked them?  Where had the flan been sent from?  Did they know where a second attack might come from?  Had there been any threats?  Anyone that they had angered recently?  Any unhealthy attraction garnered by the priestess?

The answers were all the same, and hopelessly devoid of any leads, at least as far as Lightning could see; the grim looks on her squadmates’ faces as they finally bowed to the seeress and walked back down the temple indicated no better ideas in their heads.

Kimahri was shaking his head, even as he finished calling in a report and request for crime scene work up to HQ.  When he was done speaking with Yaag, he turned to the rest of them, golden eyes still half-focused on the spray of flan guts in the background. “This will likely be a week of guard duty around the Temple and priestess, given how little we know.”

He didn’t say more, but he didn’t need to.  Lightning knew just as well as the next person how utterly unbelievable it was for someone to be directly targeting a priestess of Etro, and in her own temple.  Just who was behind it, and _how_ they had managed to spawn monsters in the heart of the sacred temple itself...well, suffice to say that it left far more questions behind than answers.

“So what do you need us to do now?” Fang shifted, one hand drifting lightly over her utility belt and ammunition clips.

Kimahri shook his head again. “For the moment, nothing.  Acting-captain Rosch is on his way now, and will collaborating with the first-response PD crew.  He wants a full look at this himself.  We will be awaiting further orders tomorrow, so we’re done here.”

Simple enough, though Lightning doubted any of them were particularly looking forward to the sound of basic temple guard duty.  But what choice did they have?  At least they had the night off.

As they were exiting the temple, just about to duck back under the police, a familiar voice from the crowd called out to her.

“Lightning?”

She turned around, surprised even once she picked out the familiar pink hair and bright blue eyes. “Serah?!  What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Lightning!”

And that was Snow.  Of course.

Before Lightning could even begin to compose a greeting, Fang stepped up next to her, Kimahri and Ashe at her side.

“Well if it isn’t the pint-sized Farron!” she whistled. “You two really do look alike!”

Then before either Lightning or Serah could say anything, Fang held out a hand, accompanied with disarming smile. “I’m guessing you’re Serah.  Lightning’s told me a lot about you!”

She shook Serah’s hand tightly.

“I’m Fang, Lightning’s partner at the SCS.”

“Of...of course!” exclaimed Serah, recovering herself. “It’s pleasure to finally meet you, Fang!”

It was impossible to miss the slight emphasis on “finally”, as well as the somewhat reproachful glance Lightning received.

Lightning rolled her eyes.  She was sure she would hear it from Serah later.

But she did take the moment to recover herself, quickly introducing Kimahri and Ashe, both of whom seemed more oddly amused by meeting Serah than anything else.

“And you are...?” asked Fang, turning toward the blond giant who shadowed Serah.

“Snow!” he introduced, shaking one hand with Fang, and wrapping the the other protectively around Serah’s waist. “Serah and I are engaged.”

“Congratulations!  Pleasure to meet you, too, Snow.”

When Serah and Snow began to dissolved more into casual conversation, Lightning interrupted, trying to regain some sense of control

“Serah, _what_ are you and Snow doing here?  This is a crime scene.”

Her voice was stern, an attempt to mask her rising panic as to why her little sister had been at the scene of a violent crime.

For her part, Serah narrowed her eyes and raised her chin, seeing straight through Lightning’s attempts. “We were here for you.”

Now Lightning was confused. “For...me?”

Snow interjected now, pointing offhandedly just below Lightning’s head. “Serah wanted to get you a new necklace to Etro.”

Lightning had half-raised a hand toward her neck, instinctively grasping for the necklace that was no longer there.  She knew she needed to replace her lost totem, get another appropriate symbol of the goddess Etro, or perhaps one of the other high gods.

“You said you that you had to use yours for work, that there was no way around it and it was fine, but…” Serah’s eyes softened visibly. “I know how much mom’s necklace meant to you, Light.  And I know it wouldn’t be quite the same, but, I thought maybe coming from family…”

Were she not on the job, were Snow’s arms still not wrapped protectively around Serah, she would have hugged her sister then and there, for only Serah knew her so well and deeply to do something like that.

As it stood, she cleared her throat somewhat gruffly, murmuring a low thanks in response.

Serah visibly brightened, and then glanced at both her watch and at the SCS crew alongside Lightning.

“Well, since you’re here now, as long as you’re free...how do you feel about dinner?”

* * *

Lightning used her straw to move around the ice cubes in her water, silently adamant to herself that it was _not_ a nervous habit as the ice clinked against the sides of the glass.

This was not at all how she had ever imagined dinner between her, Serah, and Fang going..not to mention Snow.  Granted, for once she found herself almost relieved at his presence.

When Ashe and Kimahri had graciously declined the offer to dinner, Lightning had felt the stirrings of panic rise to life within her gut at the thought of an intimate and private meal with her wedged between her sister and Fang, but she had forgotten that Snow was there too.  Though he was only one man, it staved off what Lightning perceived as an otherwise imminent doom between her partner (...more than partner?) and her equally prying sister.

Of course, there was only so much reprieve to found in either her dinner or her sister’s fiancé.

The conversation had died off for the moment, and Lightning caught a stray glance from Fang.

Though it was a quick, darting glance, it was not missed by Lightning, for all that she was again taking solace in her water glass.

“So…” said Fang, thankfully turning back instead toward Snow. “You and Serah are engaged.  Serah’s a teacher, but what do you do for a living, big guy?”

“Me?” asked Snow, a smile building on his face. “I actually work for NORA.”

Fang’s brow furrowed slightly, and she repeated the word as she thought. “NORA...NORA...oh!  _NORA_!  The not-for-profit, right?  The one that helps the homeless and kids and others get off the streets, yeah?”

“That’s the one!” he confirmed.

“How’d you get into that?” asked Fang, now resting a hand against her chin, her eyes alight with interest.

Snow grinned, looking somewhat abashed. “Well…”

Serah cut in, leaning into Snow’s arm contentedly, her voice clearly proud. “What he isn’t telling you is that he founded NORA.”

Fang dropped her hand to the table with a thunk, appearing impressed. “No shit!”

“Naw,” Snow protested, downplaying. “It’s really nothing.  I had a rough time on the streets myself.  Made some stupid decisions when I was a kid.  Just wanted to be able to give back...help people who have it rough, give them a chance to restart their life on a better foot, you know?”

Both Fang and Serah nodded, and Fang begin asking more questions—just what kind of work did it entail, how much had they accomplished—but as Snow responded enthusiastically, despite his warm grin, his blue eyes flickered uncertainly toward Lightning.

And with good reason.

Lightning clenched her jaw tightly as conversation continued.

Snow’s explanation of his background to Fang had brief, and sanitized.  And Lightning knew better.

What Snow had left out in his rather quaint retelling had been the degree of just how “stupid” his youthful decisions had been during his teenage years.  He’d been a full street gang, and for a number of years.  Hell, he had the gang tattoo—all red and black and ten different kinds of ugly—inked on his left forearm.  His record was an eyesore of various juvenile misdemeanors, even a illegal weapons possession charge.

That had all changed, ultimately.  When Snow was about eighteen, just of age to be charged as an adult, he had walked away from the gang world.  He always professed because he had finally realized that it was a useless system to him, that he couldn’t help his actual friends on the streets and from the orphanage, the ones that he ultimately founded NORA with and for.

Maybe that was the truth, but Lightning recognized the shadowed look in his eyes when she had first confronted him on the issues of his past, after she had first found out he was dating her sister. 

He might have had turning point in his life; there might have been some event that made him decide to change his ways, but Lightning had made her career in dealing with criminals.

Snow might have changed now, but that didn’t change his past, and in Lightning’s line of work, you never forgot a person’s past.

Her growing scowl was interrupted when she heard her name being mentioned.

“What?” She snapped to attention, looking at Serah, who had last spoken.

Serah rolled her eyes, but was smiling. “They really must work you hard if you’re spacing out like that, Light.”

Lightning gave an appropriate frown in response, but Serah waved her down.

“I was just wondering, what it was like?  Lightning never says much about work, even though I know what you both do must be dangerous, and, well...just what is it like working with my sister?  I mean there aren’t many humans in your division...and...ah...”

Serah trailed off, looking embarrassed by what she had said, but Fang waved down her concerns, taking a long sip of water before choosing to answer.

“It’s okay.  No offense taken here—and, yeah, cause I know you’re wondering, yes I’m an oddity.  Now as for your first question,” Fang’s a eyes twinkled mischievously. “Afraid I can’t tell you much more than Lightning.  Classified.”

Serah pouted at Fang’s grin, which only earned her a further chuckle from both Fang and Snow.

“But as for you second question...well…” Fang leaned back into her chair, her smile fading away before a more pensive and serious look.  Her eyes turned toward Lightning, lingering, and Lightning found her stomach muscles automatically clenching, tense with nerves.

Fang’s eyes finally slid away, drifting back toward Serah.

“Your sister’s a damn good partner, you know?  Especially for a human,” she said, as if almost sensing the unspoken questions behind Snow and Serah’s eyes. “I’ve been around the block, and I’ve had other partners, and I won’t lie...I was skeptical when I heard that the captain had hired another human.”

“But?” prompted Serah, clearly hanging on Fang’s every word.

“But...I was wrong.  I’ve never had anyone watch my back so well.  Lightning is...well, she works just as hard as anyone else.  Even harder.  And I trust her...and when you’re talking about your case partner, believe me, trust means everything.  But that’s Lightning.  I couldn’t have picked better myself.”

Lightning stared at Fang, feeling a mixture of emotions well up in her throat, too complex and varied to be appropriately named.  So instead she turned back toward her nearly finished plate of food, busying herself with what little remained and grateful for the reprieve back into more casual conversation.

When they finally paid their bill and took their leave from the restaurant, Serah engulfed Lightning in a tight hug. Lightning silently chided herself for not spending as much time with her younger sister.  Since that she had accepted the inevitability that was Snow, their sisterly relationship had been on the mend; she needed to make sure that she didn’t leave that by the wayside, no matter how busy work might get.  They were family, after all, and Serah meant everything to her.

Serah also gave Fang a quick hug, too, surprising Lightning just as much as Fang, though truly, Lightning didn’t know why she taken unaware.  Serah had always been giving and open individual.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Fang, even if it was a bit out of the blue.”

“Likewise.  You and Snow both,” nodded Fang, smiling back at the younger Farron and her fiancé.

“Well,” said Serah, one armed looping around Snow’s. “We need to get going.  But I do hope that we get to meet again soon.  Take care!”

And with that, the two set off down the street, on whatever route led to their own apartment.

Which left Lightning alone again.  With Fang.

Exactly what she had been trying to avoid for the better portion of the week.

“Well...good night, then.” Lightning hoped her voice merely sounded tired, not as tight and ill at ease as what she actually felt.  She turned around to start heading back toward her apartment, eager to make an escape. “See you at work.”

“Lightning...Light, wait!”

A hand was on her wrist then, calloused and warm fingers covering over the beat of her pulse.  It was grip that was inhumanly strong, and Lightning jerked around, pulling her hand back and away from Fang’s touch, even as she felt her heartbeat spike and a thrill of fearful adrenaline surge through her.

Fang dropped her own hand down quickly, her eyes going wide with a mixture of surprise, confusion, and...hurt...at Lightning’s reaction. “Light...are you...afrai—”

“I’ve got to go, Fang!” The words tumbled out of Lightning’s mouth, forced and rapid and sharp.  She turned before anything more could be said, taking off down the sidewalk at a pace only a hair slower than a full out run, her name being called out after her.

Her blood thrummed in her ears, and she tried to drown out the queries within her own head, though they were not easily silenced.

_Why are you afraid, Lightning?_

She internally railed that she was not afraid, though it felt like a lie even to her.  It wasn’t that she was afraid of Fang...

_Are you afraid of yourself?_

_Are you?_

* * *

The next day in the office went both quickly and quietly.  There was more than enough work to be done while stuck behind her desk, and it was with a growing weight of guilt and self-directed disappointment that Lightning accepted Fang’s silence with her, exchanging only simple greetings and the barest of glum communications as they both worked. 

Even so, it was with some degree of surprise that Lightning heard Fang suddenly call in a day’s work.

She looked up, turning around to see the rich orange light of the evening spilling through the windows, making long shadows across the office.

Time had flown by while she worked, and the end of this work day meant a weekend for her, as both she and Fang had this weekend rotation off.

Lightning’s eyes slipped back across the desk, toward the woman she had come to know so well, now shrugging on her jacket and looking steadfastly away.

_Just what are you afraid of?_

Lightning spoke before she could even think.

“Fang.”

Her partner stopped, stilled, and looked at Lightning full on, her eyes glittering and indecipherable, waiting.  The seconds ticked by, tension steadily growing between them until it was finally broken.

“Walk me home.” Even Lightning wasn’t sure if she had spoken in a question or a command, but she had spoken nonetheless.

Fang’s eyes widened a bit, but then she nodded in strong affirmation. “Of course.”

Their walk back toward Lightning’s apartment was relatively quiet.  There was no effort made at small talk, or even work talk.  The walked in companionable silence alongside each other, though Lightning felt hyperaware of her partner, of the way their steps easily matched, and how their elbows occasionally brushed, making her stomach clench and unclench even as she fought the urge to turn and stare at the beautiful profile of the woman next to her.

And then they were at her apartment building, and Lightning found herself hesitating to punch in the entry code, unsure of what she wanted to say now that they were here.

Fang put one powerful hand out to the doorframe, resting her weight against it and leaning over Lightning, making a decision for her unspoken conflict.

“Let me come up.”

Fang’s voice was low and more thickly accented than usual, and as much of question as Lightning’s original request for company on the walk home had been.

Lightning nodded slowly, and then punched in the code, entering her building when Fang opened the door for her.

All the way up the three flights of narrow stairs she could feel Fang’s gaze on her, watching, tracing, and never breaking contact.  When they finally reached her apartment, she found that her keys seemed unnaturally slippery in her hands, and she fumbled to find the right one for the lock.

Finally the door was opened, and she gestured for Fang to go in first, murmuring for her to make herself at home.

By the time Lightning had closed the door, kicked off her shoes, set down her bag and coat and walked into the living room, Fang was already sitting on the couch, her eyes bright but still unreadable, pinned wholly on Lightning.

_I should ask her if she wants a drink, a bit of food, if…_

Her mind chattered away incessantly, but her throat and tongue remained dry.  At least until Fang chose to break the silence.

“Listen, Lightning, I’m sorry about last ni—”

In a bare second Lightning had moved, sitting down next to Fang, but still keeping a hesitant separation between the two of them.

“No,” she insisted. “Fang…”

But Fang’s eyes were elusive, refusing to meet hers. “I know that...that what I am...is not something to be comfortable around, Lightning, that it’s something to be feared.  It’s a curse, terrible and monstrous.  And for all that I’ve done, for all that I can become, that too makes me...m-monstro—”

Lightning cut her off, this time with pressing a firm finger against Fang’s lips to silence her.  It was bold move, and Lightning would have normally been embarrassed by how forthright and personal gesture was, but she couldn’t spare the momentary discomfiture.  The quick and almost thoughtless gesture had served its purpose.  Fang quieted instantly, her wide eyes now trained on Lightning.

_Good_ , thought Lightning for a brief second, and then she plowed ahead.  If that was what Fang thought, if she truly believed that Lightning judged her for who she and what she was, then it was left to Lightning to correct it.

“ _No_.” When Lightning insisted this time, there was force behind her voice. “And don’t you dare say that again, Fang.  That’s not the case.  And that was never the case.  I’m not afraid of you, Fang.”

“Then wha…”

Fang’s voice was a mumbled whisper, obstructed by Lightning’s finger, which was still solidly pressed against her lips.  Upon realizing such, Lightning dropped her hand with a startled and self conscious jerk.

“Lightning?”

Fang’s clearly disbelieving question persisted, but there was no immediate answer, not when their gazes had fully caught one another.  Lightning found herself enchanted in Fang’s gaze, trembling and doubtful though it was. 

Her eyes were beautiful, almost haunting, a rich and verdant malachite, streaked with plumes of both color and shadow exactly like their mineral counterpart, but always glittering with an inner fire and life that was oh so very _Fang_.

They were also the eyes of the beast.

Even here, Lightning could remember the harsh and metallic smell of blood choking her nostrils, of the piercing howl that had made every hair stand on end, and of the exact same eyes staring out at her, filled with an indiscriminate bloodlust.

But in Fang’s eyes now there was only an open and fearful vulnerability, the same look that had been present only last week when Lightning had held her and comforted her and they had ultimately shared a kiss.  The same look that had been present last night when Lightning had nearly fled home.  And Lightning suddenly understood why.  In this moment, Fang was risking everything.  She was opening herself, offering everything to Lightning’s judgement on the matter.  Mutual attraction or no, nothing could come of them if Lightning was not able to accept _everything_ that was Fang.

And yet they were two separate beings to her, Fang and her cursed loup garou half.  Though what sins had been committed while transformed weighed down on Fang, they were not _her_ sins.  What tragedies that had occurred had not been by her hand or her doing, and Lightning believed that wholeheartedly.  The Fang she knew was not the same as the creature that would have torn her throat out.

But the question silently presented now was, did that memory of fear still haunt her?  Could she truly look Fang in the eyes and not feel some same vestige of horror and revulsion?

She looked deeply into the green eyes, searching not so much for answers in Fang, but answers in herself.  This wasn’t a matter of logic anymore.  It was gut reaction.  If she couldn’t bring herself to fully trust Fang...if she couldn’t look her straight on without the shadows of the past hanging between them...

_I’m not afraid_.

It was uttered internally almost like a mantra, but as she continued to hold Fang’s gaze, she realized her internal apprehension over it was unfounded.  Her breathing remained even, and her pulse stayed regular.  She _wasn’t_ afraid.  Not here.  Not now.  Not with Fang only a hand’s length away from her; not even knowing who and what she was.

It was never Fang that Lightning had feared, no matter what her partner might have thought.  What she had been fleeing from, ignoring, fearful of wasn’t something so tangible as a person or monster, but her own confusing and conflicting surge of feelings.

_“What I’ve been afraid of is me.”_

The words managed to be voiced, albeit half-choked and garbled.

Fang raised her eyebrows, first in confusion, and then in dawning comprehension.  And then the nameless tightness in Fang’s eyes finally relaxed, and the anxiety began to finally bleed away, leaving a growing curiosity in its wake.

“Lightning...” Fang’s hand reached out slowly toward her face, trailed a feather light path over her cheek, and then rested against her neck, fingers pressed lightly just over the carotid artery.

Lightning felt her pulse finally begin to spike then, but it was born of something very different than fear.

Fang’s hand traced back up cup her cheek, and Lightning pressed into the warm palm against her skin, watching as Fang leaned in.  Those same green eyes had darkened with heavy emotion, and Lightning felt her insides flip when she saw the gaze flicker down toward her lips.

It was who Lightning chose to finish closing the distance, kissing Fang.  The first touch was light, sensitive and testing.  It was a cautious kiss on both sides, still filled with uncertainty.  And then Fang’s lips pressed against her again.  And again.  And again.  And their breaths became heavy in the air.

Their kissing deepened, and Lightning instinctively tangled one hand into the wild mess of curls at the back of Fang’s head, while the other slid up and under the loose hem of Fang’s shirt, eagerly scraping against her heated and sculptured midriff, even as she felt a similar thrill while Fang’s hands did the same to her.

_I want this_ , she realized abruptly...work protocol be damned.

“I want _you_ , Fang,” she gasped out, pulling back from a kiss for a moment so she could catch her breath and speak.

She saw a glimpse of that same vulnerability in Fang’s eyes at her proclamation, but it was just as quickly tossed aside again, drowned out by a clear wave of both relief and intense longing.

“Lightning...”

Lightning clasped the sides of Fang’s beautiful face in her hands, and dragged her in for a hot and searing kiss, letting all of her pent up desire and want speak through her actions.

Then they each renewed their efforts ten-fold, until Lightning fell back onto the whole of the couch with Fang on top of her, their bodies an interconnected web of limbs and skin and lips and tongue, hands distractedly trying to remove what few barriers were left between them by clothing.

* * *

Lightning settled into her desk chair.  It was still early yet, especially after her weekend off, and she had gotten in before most of the office would even start trickling in.  Not that she minded.  She had always been a morning person.  It was a time for productivity.  To get things in order and straightened out before the day moved on, and gods and goddesses alike knew that Lightning needed to focus her mind in on work and the case at hand, rather than other matters that distracted her attention, or rather, the other _person_.

Fang had spent the remainder of the weekend at Lightning’s apartment.  It had been a languid and pleasurable last two days, more than what Lightning could ever recall having, with their time spent almost entirely in the apartment itself, and typically with as few clothes as possible.  Really, they barely done anything, except to sleep, eat, and...well…

Lightning let herself smile a bit, still in far too good a mood than anyone had a right to be on an early workday.

It had only been in the early hours of the morning that Fang had finally been forced to take her reluctant leave, needing to return to her own place in order to prepare for work.

Which is how Lightning found herself at the SCS headquarters, still there earlier than most, making herself comfortable at her desk as she nursed a steaming cup of black coffee.  Her other squadmates were slowly trickling in, in no more apparent rush to begin work than Lightning currently was.

Footsteps, calmly measured and clicking distinctly, suddenly approached her from behind, accompanied by a cutting lilt, “Glad to see that not everything fell apart while I was away.”

Lightning’s coffee was replaced on her desk in an instant, and she had snapped her chair back around to face the familiar voice before she could even think, shoulder straight and eyes attentive.

“Ms. Farron.”

The captain of the SCS was smiling at her from just a few feet away, that familiar, almost cruel smirk playing across her pink lips, as if she knew some secret that no one else was privy to.

“Ma’am!” Lightning bowed her head toward Jihl. “It’s good to have you back.”

And for as utterly terrifying as their captain could be, it was the truth.  Dragon or no, Lightning had no doubt that Jihl protected her own, even if she did have a suspicion that the woman viewed them all more as tools than as people.  Still, it was better than alternatives.

The captain’s reptilian gaze moved lazily over the office, over the bodies that were now finally filling it, and the strong morning light that shone through the windows.  After a long survey, her golden eyes finally came back to rest on Lightning.

“It’s good to be back, Farron.”

Despite what she said, her voice was tired, more faint than usual.  Jihl’s face seemed even more pale than what Lightning recalled, and she suddenly realized that there were crows feet on the captain’s skin, and shadows beneath her eyes. 

There was the sound of voices from behind, of people entering the office.

Lightning looked up instinctively.  Fang and Ashe had just emerged from the locker rooms, pausing where they were as they continued their conversation

Jihl’s gaze jumped up as well, deliberately neither too long to be strange nor too brief to go unnoticed by Lightning.  And then she smiled, and when her eyes locked back onto Lightning’s they were completely knowing.  As the captain smiled, Lightning felt her stomach bottom out.

Her eyes flickered one last time to Fang and then back to Lightning, and her smile was white with the glimmer of ivory teeth.

“So,” she drawled. “ _That’s_ how it is then.”

“Captain...” Lightning began, already stumbling to find the right words, and for once completely at a loss of what to say. “I...that is...”

“At ease, Farron,” commanded Jihl, her voice just barely above a whisper. “I hardly care what you choose to do in the privacy of your own bedroom, but do not let it... _distract_...you while you are here.”

Lightning was not mortified quite so much as to not be affronted by the insinuation. “Captain, I would _hardly_ —”

Jihl cut her off, her smile even wider now, clearly amused. “As long as we are clear.  I will not tolerate anything less than exemplary performances.  Try not to let it affect your working relationship.”

And with that, the captain turned on heel and walked calmly back toward her office, leaving Lightning alone with her severe and growing embarrassment.

How did the woman even know?

She risked a glance around the office space.  No one else seemed to have paid any extra attention to her today, so it was safe to assume that it was only Jihl who had figured things out...and possibly Yaag, if only by default.

Fang had finished talking with Ashe, and continued to their desks, flashing Lightning a quick grin as she approached.

There was absolutely nothing suggestive or even remotely lecherous about it, but that hardly seemed to matter to Lightning.

Her head was immediately filled with memories from earlier—the smell of Fang’s shampooed hair in her nose, the distinctive gasp of breath or needy moan she would utter as Lightning touched her, and, most prominently, the smooth curves and steely muscles of that perfect body as it writhed and moved against her.

She shoved her face into her hands, hiding her rising blush.

This was _exactly_ what Jihl had just told her not to do.

_Great._

“You okay, Light?” Fang’s voice was now confused, and Lightning risked looking up as her partner took her usual seat across from her. “I saw the captain talking with you a moment ago...”

Fang’s brow furrowed for a moment, trying to make sense of whatever expression Lightning had on her face still.

How on earth was she supposed to explain to Fang what she had just been told?  How did she say...?

Suddenly Fang’s eyes widened, and then crinkled in mirth, a wide grin breaking across her face even as the laughter began to bubble up past her lips.

“Are you saying...the captain...just told you...” she dissolved into fits of only barely muffled laughter, and Lightning felt her receding blush resurge back into full force.

“I am going to strangle you,” Lightning hissed between her teeth, taking solace yet again in her hands. 

“Not into _that_ kind of bedplay, sorry to disappoint,” teased Fang, and Lightning could hear the smirk in her voice as she took her seat.

Dammit, but she couldn’t say anything without Fang twisting her words around!

Thankfully, her partner finally seemed to have taken some measure of pity on her. “So, the captain already guessed it, huh?”

Lightning finally looked up at Fang from between her fingers, to see her partner gingerly sipping a cup of coffee, her eyes thoughtful as she surveyed the office, apparently nonplussed by the revelations Lightning had given her.

Lightning raised an eyebrow, fully lifting her head and allowing her arms to drop back down to her desk. “You seem unsurprised by it.”

Fang shrugged and flipped her hair back over a shoulder. “Because I’m not.  The captain is...well, you know her just as well as me.”

Which was true.  And on that line of thought, Lightning was not totally surprised that Jihl had somehow pieced it all together in a glance.  In the wake of that, though, a sudden, absolutely horrid thought ran through her head. 

“Fang...does,” Lightning had to pause to swallow, risking a quick glance at their various squadmates who were all settling into their morning routines. “Does that mean…”

Fang raised her own eyebrows, following Lightning’s gaze out across the office space.  Then she shook her head after a moment. “I doubt it.”

“But...oddities...I mean, oddity senses…” she struggled to explain herself, until Fang cut her off, understanding of what was being implied.

“Oddity senses _do_ tend to be stronger than a normal humans, but you’re giving oddities a bit more credit that what they’re due.  Of course, if we wanted to leave a “ _mark_ ”, so to speak…” Fang let her eyes wander across Lightning’s torso, and then nodded suggestively toward the flat space of their desk area.  Lightning choked.  There was no mistaking what was being implied.

“...there’s no doubt that it would be picked up on rather quickly.” And then Fang went back to sipping on her coffee, as if there wasn’t a care in the world and she hadn’t just blatantly suggested having sex on their work desks.

“Jihl would…” Lightning struggled to get her words out. “She would kill us both.”

Fang finished swallowing and nodded solemnly. “And likely string our sorry hides from the rafters.  Which is why as amusing as some of the results would be, it’s probably in our better interests to not.”

Fang took another healthy swig of her coffee and then stood up, grabbing her jacket. “And on the note of our better interests, ready for an exciting day of guard duty?”

Lightning sighed and followed suit, checking to make sure that she had all of her standard equipment ready to go.  She and Fang had pulled watch duty at the Temple of Etro for the next two days, joy of joys, and it looked to be even drier business than normal paperwork.

“Keys?” she asked automatically.

Fang dangled them in her fingers by way of response. “And I’m driving.”

That earned her a pair of rolled eyes, but Lightning let it go as they walked back out of the building and into their squad car, smiling.  She’d let Fang have this round.  Tomorrow though...the keys were hers.  She would make certain of it.

They were an easy fifteen minutes into their drive when the companionable silence of the car was abruptly broken by the hissing static of the radio, followed by a short wave emergency alert over the universal police frequency station.

“This Officer Thompson!  Repeat, this is Officer Thompson!  Ten-thirty-five in progress at the Temple of Etro, ten-thirty-five!  We are under attack, repeat we under atta—agh!”

The officer in question cut off from his radio, yelling.

Lightning had already turned on the lights and was grabbing the radio piece, hailing across the frequency.

“Mayday, mayday,” reported Lightning into the squad car radio. “This is Farron in unit two of SCS.  We are responding to an attack alert at the Temple of Etro.  This is a ten-eighteen.  Repeat, this is a ten-eighteen.  Over.”

Yaag’s voice chimed in across the radio, cold and calculated. “ _Report to the scene immediately, Farron, and use whatever force—lethal or otherwise—that is necessary.  SCS is rolling out the vans now.  Over and out._ ”

Lightning reached to flick on the sirens, but Fang already hit the switch before the radio receiver was replaced back into its holster.

With lights and siren both now on full, Fang accelerated through the streets at full throttle, with cars traffic easily parting to let them through.  What would have been a slow-going five minute cruise turned into a race that ended less than a minute later, with brakes squealing as Fang drove them right up onto the sidewalk.

Then they were nearly spilling out of the car, dashing toward the prominent and arched doors to the temple, guns already drawn in the open sun, yelling at pedestrians to stay back.

As they slammed open the doors, time seemed to slow for Lightning, and her brain took automatic stock of what she knew of the situation, which was terrifyingly little.

She was wearing a standard kevlar vest beneath her jacket, had her gun drawn from her hip, and Blazefire holstered to the backside of her belt.  But beside what few clips of ammunition she normally wore and the single combat knife at her side, she felt woefully underdressed without her standard issue riot gear.

And considering that they had no idea what they were about to step into, she felt more than a bit nervous.  Not that it would change what she would do, only what her potential plan of attack would be.

The doors nearly bounced off of their hinges, and Lightning and Fang alike were greeted with a scene of chaos. 

A ceremony had been in session when the attack had started, and while most of the innocent worshippers had managed to dive out of the way and toward the periphery of the temple interior, few had managed to escape.

Lightning’s ear were assaulted with the sounds of terrified screams, but her attention was unwavering, focused instead on the sounds that better cued her into the situation at hand.  The rhythmic and distinctively loud popping of guns immediately drew her attention down the transept of the temple, toward where a flan, mustard-colored and monstrously  large, wavered over the a ring of persistent cops, all of whom were focused on emptying their clips into the creature, though it seemed to do little good.

“Lightning!” urged Fang, and she didn’t need to say more.

Lightning’s hand was already on Blazefire, the falchion half out and Fang’s own foldable lance already turned out and constructed when a yell of pure and unadulterated rage cut through the air.

Caius, mighty blade swinging, swathed in an unnatural maelstrom of shadow, leapt out from the direction of the altar.  His attack struck true, faster than the gelatinous monster could ever hope to counter, and his blade was quickly buried up to the hilt.

Yet he was not finished there.

Even as the flan screeched and brought one dripping and muddied fist downward, Caius twisted his blade.  The liquid shadow seemed to move around the hilt, and then it abruptly exploded outward, pulverizing the flan and sending chunks of gut flying in every which way.

The enemy defeated, Caius flicked his blade, cleaning it of flan.  His brow was darker than a stormfront, furious and untrusting.

“SCS!” he barked out. “Well time that you arrived, though there is no need of you.  As you can see, I have protected…”

His confident voice died off, and he brought his sword up again, falling into a defensive crouch.

“What...what is that?”

The question, shaking and fearful, came from one of the cops, but Lightning dared not turn to look.  Her eyes were transfixed by the sight in front of her, where the air darkened and twisted, a growing and gaping hole forming from nothing.

“Fang…” Lightning could hear the worry creep into her own voice.

Her partner responded, tight with apprehension. “That’s a transport portal.  Look like we’re about to have more company.”

No flan slid through the portal, though.  Instead, one enormous paw, clawed and terrible, slammed out onto the tiled floor, followed by a second, and then a third and a forth.

An inhuman bellow erupted in the air, and Lightning flinched against her will.

The temple was a large building, with a spacious interior and high vaulted ceilings that provided ample space for the worshippers gathered there. Yet even so, it was now made cramped and crowded, all by the presence of a single creature.

It was a true monster, a beast the likes of which Lightning had never seen before, and she pulled back involuntarily for a brief second on sheer survival instinct.

Whatever it was, it was huge.  It prowled on all fours, like some hybrid of a big cat and dog, but infinitely larger.  Towering upwards of fifteen feet, and with claws and exposed teeth each easily bigger than Lightning’s hands, there was no mistaking the lethal intent of the monster.  A long mohawk of coarse fur ran down the length of its spine from crown to tail, but it was otherwise bizarrely hairless, with only exposed purple and pink skin, muscles bulging just below what Lightning suspected to be a deceptively unprotected surface.

After all, what on earth would a beast like this have to fear from anything?

No matter.  The Guardian of Etro was unphased by this new opponent.  If anything, he seemed even further invigorated.

“Abomination!” roared Caius, and his eyes were violet daggers. “Behemoth!  I care not who sent you, but you will not have the priestess!  Not while under my watch!”

Even as he launched an attack, it was then that Lightning noticed his charge—the target of the monster attacks—in the back.  Yeul was at the very end of the temple, behind the altar and near the Throne of Etro.  Yet given the danger, she appeared neither upset nor frightened, and as Lightning looked at her glazed and unseeing eyes, she realized that the priestess was almost certainly in a trance...and completely defenseless.

She sheathed Blazefire, instead opting to pull back out her fully loaded Sig, and saw Fang do the same.

Caius might be willing to get into close-combat with the behemoth, but Lightning was hardly ready to do the same.  They needed to hold out until reinforcements arrived.

“Aim for the head if you can!” ordered Lightning, pitching her voice so that it clearly carried to the other cops.  She knew that they were frightened—since when was any normal cop trained for this type of oddity situation?—but they needed all the help they could get right now.

Thankfully, her order seemed to do the trick, and a second later, a volley of shots rang out in the temple, all aimed toward the towing target in the center of the temple.

It was hard to miss, and most of the hits struck true.

A second, furious roar shook the air, and the monster shook its head to and fro, spraying bright droplets of unnaturally blue blood across the building, splattering the walls and floor alike.

Lightning emptied her clip...and then Caius charged in.  His first swing was heavy and destructive, slicing into the barrel chest of the behemoth while its snarling head was still turned aside, distracted by the shooters.  He carved a new swathe of blue into its purpled skin, but had to jump back as it turned on him, claws sweeping out.

“Profane this temple no more, beast!”

Flecks of spittle sprayed out as he yelled, catching the full attack of the paw with the blunted flat of his massive blade.  Even with his stance, the force of the blow drove him backward, screeching against the tile.  When a second paw slammed down above him, he had to dive aside, or risk being crushed.

“Keep up the attack!” Fang shouted, renewing her own effort. 

Lightning reloaded another clip and began firing anew.  She ignored the bead of sweat that dripped down her face.

They could do this.  They were making an impact even now, chipping away at the monster steadily.  SCS would be here any moment now, they just had to keep it going.

“Divine Etro!  Guide your humble servant’s blade.  Let the chaos I command flow by your word.”

Caius flourished his blade a second time, and the same shadowy aura from when he had dispatched the flan coalesced into life around his sword, heavy and threatening.

The beast thrashed wildly as Caius edged in for another attack, smashing pews and and knocking tumbling blocks of crystal loose, taking out several of the officers as it thrashed.  They were sent flying, bodies no more than ragdolls before so powerful a creature.

His sword drove into one blazing and angry red eye.  There was not the same thrust behind it, for his reach was limited, and his angle of attack was strained, but the blade pierced into the unprotected orbital.

The howl that pierced Lightning’s eardrums made her blood nearly curdle.  Seemingly in its death throes, the behemoth lashed out, landing one crazed blow against Caius’ broadside, throwing him backward through the temple, spitting up blood even as he righted himself.

The creature did not follow up with an attack, instead cradling its ruined eye and roaring, curling in on itself.

“Now’s our chance,” urged Fang, pulling open her lance again. “Let’s finish it—”

A telekinetic blast ripped through the temple with the force of a small bomb, flattening Lightning against the floor and sending shards of glass flying about as the windows shattered apart.

Lightning struggled to her feet, the ringing in her ears dissipating just enough so that she could hear the screams of still-trapped worshippers around her.  She didn’t even bother to check for their immediate well being, not while their enemy was still here, still right in front of them and a very real and deadly threat.

She ripped upright, pulling her handgun up sharply, loaded and ready to fire, and felt the blood run cold in her veins.

The monster stood upright on its hind legs now, bipedal and towering, a massive blade larger than a human being clenched firmly in one of its forepaws.  Even worse yet, it appeared completely and utterly healed.  Not a one of the wounds they had inflicted on it remained.  Every last cut and bullet wound was completely sealed over, without even a hint of blood left behind, including the eye that had been torn open a mere second earlier.

It was as healthy and untouched as when it had first arrived.

They were in deep, deep trouble.

“ _Yeul!_ ”

Fuck.

Caius dove to the priestess’s side in a flash, cradling her limp form gently in his arms.  Lightning could see blood trailing down the priestess’ face, though from shrapnel or what else, she couldn’t tell.

But now that it was healed and upright, and with its target in plain and unprotected sight, the behemoth let out a shriek of violent delight, stomping toward the altar.

They had to act now, and fast.

“Fang!”

“With you, Light!”

Lightning dropped her nearly spent handgun, drawing at last her Blazefire, liquid runes shimmering just beneath the adamantine edge.

Fang was at her side as they ran toward exposed hind side of the monster.  It briefly occurred to Lightning that this was quite possibly the very definition of a suicide mission, but she couldn’t bring herself to even think of backing out.  There was only the second to act, not to doubt.

She and Fang struck simultaneously.

Fang slammed her lance into the wiggling tip of the beast’s tail, pinning it into a place for a few seconds, but those precious few moments were all the time in the world for Lightning.  She brought Blazefire down, letting the alloyed blade taste the flesh of the monster.  For a moment, she felt the hairless skin resisting, but then it quickly gave way, and Lightning had sliced off the tail as though it were little more than soft butter.

_That_ did precisely what they had been aiming for, though perhaps a fraction too well.

The behemoth bellowed in pain and rage, rounding on them and jaws dripping with saliva as its tail gushed blue.

They succeeded in drawing its attention from the priestess…

... _but now we’re first in sight._

“Time for a bit of cat and mouse, eh?”

Lightning didn’t need to turn to see the daring and foolhardy grin on Fang’s face.  Instead, she let herself smile back.  _Typical._

“Not my favorite, but I guess I’m game.”

Fang’s chuckle wafted over the air. “That’s my girl.”

Then Fang pulled her handgun and emptied the last of its shots into the behemoth, just for good measure.

If there was any doubt that the creature wanted them dead, it was dispelled now.

“Time to run!” yelled Fang.

They had only a scant breath to yell at any remaining worshippers to get out of the way, and then they were sprinting through the still open temple entrance.

On the lawn, the SCS had just arrived, and their squadmates were jumping from the vehicle.

“Fang!  Farron!  What’s the situa—”

“No time to chat, gotta go!” Fang responded, and in perfect timing, the façade of the temple crumbled apart in an explosion of dust and rock as the behemoth charged out, intent on catching its newest prey.

“The fuck!”

Lightning wasn’t immediately sure who that was from.

“Like a said, gotta run!  Big guy’s in a bad mood now!” Fang still somehow managed a cheeky, if somewhat breathless remark.

There was no point in slowing or turning around.  While the gunfire started immediately, Lightning could hear the thundering gait of the monster shudder closer and closer behind them.  Apparently, cutting off its tail had been an excellent way to earn its ire.  Of course, now they had to figure out just what they were going to do about it.

Her radio crackled into life at her shoulder, Amodar’s voice sharp.  “Farron!  Fang!  That thing doesn’t seem to want to shake loose of you.  Get it into a contained area if you can, maybe one of the big alleys down on tenth.  I’ve got half the squad following you.”

“Roger that, sir!” Lightning managed that much, and then she and Fang were running at full speed down Tenth Street, thankfully devoid of any civilians from the police blockade, with a nightmare out of hell breathing down their necks.

However, as the beast chased them, it wreaked destruction in its wake.  Cars and buildings alike were subject to its unprejudiced lust for violence.  Lightning only spared one glance when she first heard the sickening crunch of metal and concrete as cars were tossed asunder like play toys.

_Shit_.

Even if backup was supposed to be on their tail, that support was going to be increasingly more delayed with growing pile of wreckage to clear past.

Not to mention, what limited lead they had on the beast was systematically diminishing.

“There!” pointed Fang.

On their approaching left was one of the larger side alleys, designed to let garbage collection trucks through to pick up the trash dumpsters from all of the restaurants in this area

They ran into the alley without a second thought, glad to see that it was devoid of any civilians who might otherwise be caught in the crossfire.  However, like most of the alleys off of tenth, it was also a dead end, stretching only another hundred feet back before ending in the sheer face of a concrete block building.  They were about to bring the creature into an alley as directed, but with their squadmates likely delayed behind them, they needed a plan, and quickly.

Lightning’s mind buzzed frantically, thinking, thinking, thinking.

Finally, as they continued running further into the alley, she reached a decision, stopping and turning about. 

“Fang, I need you to distract that thing for me.”

“Okay, you need me to...wait!  What?!” Fang’s voice became high-pitched with alarm. “The hell are you planning, Light?  You’ve seen what that creature can do!”

Lightning swallowed and tightened her grip on Blazefire.  It was a crazy plan, but it was better than risking their chances locked into the alley and waiting.  And they could do this.  They _had_ to do this.

“I’ve got to try, Fang.” She smiled grimly. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan on ending my career here.”

There was a pause, and then Fang nodded. “Okay.  What do you need me do?”

It took a moment for Lightning to re-wet her lips as the behemoth roared and charged down the dead-end alley way toward them. “Like I said, distract it.  Try to get it to drop to all fours.  I’ll be in support, but I need you to get its attention off me, and down onto the ground.”

“You got it.  Let’s do this, Light.”

As the final distance closed between then and the monster, Lightning braced herself. 

Time to gamble.

Then the behemoth was on them, still swinging its sword with a terrifying ease, smashing a trash dumpster well into the side of a concrete building.

Lightning hung back, nearly against the dead end of the alley, and watched as her partner went to work.

Fang hopped about beneath the monster, as light on her feet as Lightning had ever seen.  More than once there was an opportunity for her to land a solid and deep thrust, but she held back.  Instead, her blows were glancing and shallow, serving to inflict more pain that injury, until the behemoth was in a froth of rage and so wholly focused on Fang that Lightning might as well have been forgotten.

One, twice, three times it slammed its gargantuan blade into the ground, shattering plates of concrete but always missing it’s target by a hair.

It made Lightning’s heart jump into her throat at how close some of the calls were.

Then, with an unholy growl of vented frustration, the monster gripped its weapon with both paw-like hands, crushing the blade downward with enough force to cut many feet into the earth, and too deep to be pulled immediately forth.

A howl of anger spewed from it as it tugged, slowly loosening the blade.  But then Fang acted, rushing in and slamming the oversized weapon back in with her lance, forcing the beast to sink even lower to the ground as it struggled.

Fang let out a primal roar of her own in response, fighting tooth and nail against the behemoth.  Lightning could see the tendons in her neck sticking out, arteries throbbing with inhuman strength.  Her lance was intertwined with the monster’s own blade, but even with all of Fang’s loup garou power, it was starting to give, metal screaming and twisting as it deformed from the sheer strain.

Now was Lightning’s chance, while the behemoth remained down on all fours, crimson eyes focused on Fang.

It was now or never.

Lightning sprinted, two-handing her falchion.  She ran directly at the behemoth, right past Fang’s startled side.  The red eyes darted sideways, attention now back onto her, but Lightning was already going.  She dropped to the ground sliding under the monster, Blazefire tilted upward and cutting as deep as she could thrust, slicing farther and farther, until her slide ground to a halt and she was at the truncated tail of the beast.

Lightning barrel-rolled then, popping back onto her feet, covered from head to toe in blue blood, and her sword readied, yet there was no need.

There was no roar, no last thrashing of defiance, only the sound of open flesh and gut splashing out onto the ground.  The the beast fell, now very silent silent and very dead.

Lightning wiped off the blood from her face with the inside of her jacket, still disbelieving that it had actually worked, still wondering when the creature was going to jump back up, miraculously healed and ready for a round three.

“It’s dead!  Holy shit...it’s actually dead!”

Fang’s voice finally broke her of her reverie, and as her partner dashed around the colossal corpse, Lightning finally let her blade gently down onto the ground.  A second later and she was engulfed in a tight hug, nevermind that her clothes were irreparably soaked with monster blood.

“Lightning...that was...that was bloody brilliant!  Stupid, foolhardy, and completely insane, but absolutely brilliant!” Fang’s voice was filled with incredulous laughter, giddy with the excitement of their victory, and who could blame her?

Lightning tried, and failed, to repress the tug of a broad smile.  It had been a gamble, yes, but it had worked, and she was certain that she was now smiling just as goofily as Fang, unable to help herself in the rush of victory.

“Light…”

She had a moment to feel Fang’s breath, and then lips were pressed to hers, warm and comforting, and their kevlar vests squeaked against each other.

Fang pulled back, just enough to rest her forehead atop Lightning’s, and Lightning allowed herself a moment to breathe heavily before returning the initial kiss back.

She was still smiling as they finally stepped back, already prepared for when, moments later, their trailing squadmates finally caught up with them, rounding the corner and entering the alley, calling out.

Lightning couldn’t help but smile at how lucky they were...and at how absolutely ridiculous they probably looked, lacking all of their normal S.W.A.T. gear but nearly painted blue.

“Lightning!  Fang!”

Ashe and Kimarhi slowed to a walk as they approached, only lowering their weapons once they realized that the beast was well and truly dead.

“You are both unharmed?” asked Ashe, her eyes bright and concerned.

“We’re good,” reassured Fang, waving down the concern. “If a bit dirty.  What’s the status at the temple?”

“Under control,” reported Kimahri. “Locked down, and treating injuries for both civilians and…”

He was interrupted by the loud beeping of Lightning’s comm. device. 

Lightning clicked to answer without even checking the caller i.d.

“This is Lightning Farron.”

_“Lightning!_ ”

She recognized that particular voice easily. “Snow, what are you doing calling—”

But she was cut off when Snow spoke two words that made her stomach bottom out, and the world spin queasily around her.

_“It’s Serah.”_

 

_Report filed.  Case closed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well...for those of you who have still followed (even after my first semester of grad school hiatus), let me thank you as an author. I promised to get this chapter up as soon as I was able, and I quite pleased to have done so before Christmas and New Years. I know some of you are probably hating me for the cliff-hanger, but don't worry, I'll be working on future chapters. The (now) standard disclaimer goes that, what with grad school, I can't promise just when the next release will be, but I do promise to release it, and hopefully it won't take half a year to so.
> 
> Anyway, I would like to sincerely thank those of you who have continued to follow and read. It means a lot to a silly little author like me, and I'll try not to let you down as I continue to work on this fic.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> ~Logos Minus Pity

**Author's Note:**

> I would also like to take this space to credit the huge amount of inspiration sources for this story/universe. In no particular order: the Harry Dresden books, the Discworld books, Bakamonogitari, Kara no Kyoukai, Ghost in the Shell, and of course FF XIII.
> 
> Thanks for reading, folks!


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